


I signed and sealed these words in blood

by Moonsault



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: AU where Sami was actually El Generico, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Human/Vampire Relationship, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Mutual Pining, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-05-05 17:56:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14624010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault
Summary: Shortly after WrestleMania, Sami finds out that Kevin is a vampire (he's seen demons; he more or less takes it in stride).  The problem is that while on the indies there was always plenty of blood getting spilled, he never needed to risk actuallybitinganyone.  Now Kevin is in the WWE... and he's slowly starving.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Treats WrestleMania 34 as a jumping-off point with canon and will probably wander off into fantasy booking eventually.

_A ship that always stays the course_  
_An anchor for my every choice_  
_A rose that shines down from above_  
_I signed and sealed these words in blood._  
_(Dropkick Murphys, “Rose Tattoo”)_

It wasn’t until WrestleMania that Sami began to notice something was up. Later he felt a little guilty about that. Okay, he’d been under a lot of stress thanks to his awful work situation and tyrant boss, but he still should have seen how exhausted and wan Kevin had been looking, how weirdly fragile.

Then they’d lost. Sami had tapped out, and they’d lost their jobs, and Kevin hadn’t even been _mad,_ he’d just looked at Sami with hollow eyes and staggered past him into the locker room. Sami dressed mechanically, hands shaking so hard he could barely manage. What were they going to do now? Go groveling back to Ring of Honor--no, it was impossible. He sat down hard on the bench, his thoughts whirling. People gave him a wide berth, which was a relief. He barely even registered the rest of the show going by, though he heard the murmurs of horror and looked up to see Roman’s face a scarlet mask of blood. What did it matter? What did any of it matter? Kevin was going to have to sell his car that he loved so much. Sami for Syria was going to founder--Sami had to bite his lip to keep from wailing. All of their hard work, undone by his moment of weakness. All of it gone to waste--

“Zayn.” Sami looked to see Rusev standing behind him, looking exasperated in the way of a person who’s been calling someone’s name for a while. “You gotta get your boy out of the showers.”

“My boy?”

“Owens. He won’t get out of the showers and he’s creeping people out.”

“Huh?” But Sami went meekly to the showers, where he found Kevin, fully dressed, on his knees on the tile. He was staring at the long, slow curls of blood in the hot water, feathering in spirals toward the drain.

Kevin didn’t look up when Sami touched him on the shoulder and said his name. “I’m so hungry,” he whispered.

“We’ll go get food,” Sami said. Something cheap, they couldn’t afford room service anymore--

“Damn it,” Kevin said. Not to Sami, just to the air. He was still staring at the drain. Roman was definitely giving them weird looks as he rinsed the blood out of his hair.

“We’ll make it work,” Sami said.

Kevin’s laugh was hollow. “At least if we have to go back to Ring of Honor I won’t starve anymore.”

 _Anymore?_ “You’re not going to starve, Kevin. I won’t let you.”

Kevin looked up at him, and there was something anguished in his eyes. “You’re a good friend,” he whispered.

“Yeah yeah,” Sami mumbled, hoisting Kevin up. “Let’s get back to the hotel room.”

Kevin buried his head in the crook of Sami’s neck and Sami could feel his breath on his skin. He was shaking. “I’m so hungry,” he whispered again.

* * *

“It’s been so long.” Kevin was staring at the ceiling. He’d taken a bite of the hamburger Sami had bought him and then put it down. “It’s been so long and I don’t know what to do. We have to get our jobs back, but I have to… I have to _eat._ ” There was a weird emphasis on the last word. “And WWE is so careful, so there’s nothing for me, but we deserve to be here, and…” He paused and shut his eyes tightly. “I’m going to kill someone if I’m not careful. I’m not a good person, I know I’m not a good person, but I don’t want to _kill_ anyone. And it’s dangerous, they’ll find me, it’s not safe.”

“We’ll go to Kurt tomorrow, we’ll ask for our jobs back,” Sami said, ignoring the talk of murder and trying to hide his alarm. He’d say Kevin sounded like he had back in the worst days of Ring of Honor, but it wasn’t true: there was a forlorn edge to his ranting that had never been there before.

“I’m so hungry, I’m so hungry.” Kevin whimpered, curling up on his side and ignoring the hamburger. “God, teaming with you is _torture_ , I’d forgotten.”

Sami felt his teeth grate. “What the hell,” he snapped. “Have I _ever_ given you shit about what you choose to eat?” Kevin had never bugged him about his choices, either--beyond some mild teasing, but Sami didn’t mind that. Having him complain about it now felt like a slap in the face. “If you want to eat a burger, eat a damn burger, I don’t care! Eat whatever you want to eat!”

Kevin blinked at him with glassy eyes. “I can’t,” he whispered. He rolled away from Sami. “Please just leave me alone,” he muttered.

“ _Fine,”_ Sami snarled. He snapped off the light and undressed in the dark, ignoring the way Kevin’s breaths were stuttering with misery. He tried to sleep, but somehow he couldn’t. It wasn’t even his worries about their jobs, either. Something was wrong with Kevin. Something Sami couldn’t put his finger on.

He’d figure it out eventually.

* * *

He wasn’t sure what actually did it. It wasn’t like he believed in supernatural stuff. Not much, at least. But there was the whole Demon Kane thing, and there was _definitely_ something uncanny about Finn; Sami had seen some weird stuff in the world of wrestling, so maybe he was ready to take that leap of intuition. He kept remembering the way Kevin stared at Roman’s blood against the white tile, how wrung-out he looked. How he’d said that if they went back to Ring of Honor he at least wouldn’t starve anymore.

“I texted Super Dragon,” Sami said to Kevin after Raw, after they’d fought each other, after both of them had failed to get a job. “He hasn’t responded yet.”

“Working for PWG won’t give us enough to keep going,” Kevin said, sitting slumped on the end of the bed.

“It’s a start.” Sami tapped Kevin lightly on the shoulder. “Hey. Don’t give up.”

Kevin buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know if I can do it, Sami. I don’t want to go back to the armories, even if it means I can--” He broke off and Sami could see his horrified expression through his fingers.

“Even if it means you can what, Kev?”

“Nothing,” Kevin said hoarsely.

Sami looked at him. Then on a crazy whim, unsure even why he was saying it, he blurted out, “Kevin, are you… are you a vampire?”

Kevin’s head snapped up and for a moment there was a look of blank shock on his face. Then he looked away again. “Vampires aren’t real,” he said.

Sami waited.

“They’re _not,_ ” Kevin repeated as if Sami had argued with him.

Sami stayed silent.

Without looking at Sami, Kevin dropped backwards onto the bed, his hands over his face. He took a deep breath, then another. And then he said hoarsely:

“It was Rougeau.”

* * *

Kevin had always expected that Sami would laugh if he told him. That he’d laugh and not believe him, or if he did believe him, he’d be horrified. And there _was_ horror in Sami’s voice when he spoke again, but it wasn’t directed at him: “ _Jacques Rougeau_ was a vampire? Your teacher?”

“My sire. Yes.” Kevin still didn’t dare look at Sami. This might be the last time they ever spoke before Sami ran screaming into the night. Suddenly he wanted to tell him everything. “He turned me because he was impressed with my talent and wanted to bind me to him.”

“Fucking hell,” Sami said.

Against his will, Kevin remembered that night: Rougeau handing him water, smiling. Complimenting his skill. The room growing hazy and far away, everything small and distant and then dark. Waking up cold and frightened and hungry, so hungry.

“He refused to tell me anything about how it worked. He kept promising he’d teach me, but I knew he wanted to keep me weak and--and hungry and dependent on him. I knew eventually he was going to have me--” Kevin broke off and silence fell.

“Go on,” Sami said quietly.

“He was going to teach me how to feed by making me-- by letting me kill someone. I didn’t want to do that. Sami, I know I can be a shitty person, but I didn’t want to kill anyone. I didn’t.”

“I believe you,” said Sami. His voice was cool and level in the way it sometimes got when he was feeling too much at once.

“But then he got sick or something, he never told me. Some kind of vampire disease. He holed up in his house for a few months, and that left me a little freer. That’s when I started wrestling for IWS.” That was when he had met Sami. When he had started having the matches that made him feel alive again. “And IWS had…” His voice trailed off.

“Had hardcore matches,” Sami finished for him.

“Barbed wire matches. Thumbtack matches. There was blood _everywhere_.” It had been such a relief, the first time he’d wrestled someone who’d gotten busted open. Beef Wellington, that was who it had been. He’d gotten him in a headlock and pressed his mouth against his sodden hair and wanted to weep as he’d tasted blood for the first time. Just a few licks. It had been enough to keep him going. He’d felt so weak and so ashamed, but at least he hadn’t killed anyone.

“What happened between you and Rougeau? If he wanted to bind you to him, how did you break away?”

Kevin shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t that strong a bond. Eventually I just… told him I was leaving.” The bond had sure _felt_ strong. It had felt like he had no choice, like he always had to return to him. Like a tether, tugging. But somehow, at some point…

No, he knew exactly what the point had been. It had been when he had his first singles match with Sami. He’d known, as the match ended, that he couldn’t bear to go back to Rougeau, not ever. He’d knelt in the ring, feeling Sami’s body against him as they both gasped for breath, and he’d reached out with his mind and… _snapped_ that tether to Rougeau. It had hurt like fuck. He’d burst into tears. But he’d been free of him since that moment.

“And after that, there was always enough blood around to keep me going. Wrestling was a pretty good gig for a vampire. Nobody thought much of it if you got someone’s blood on you in a match, and it was pretty badass to lick it off.” At the memory of the rush of sweet delight, the taste of it in his mouth, Kevin felt his entire soul seem to cramp up with hunger.

“Until you got to the WWE, where they’re so careful about blood. Why didn’t you stay in the indies?”

Sami sounded almost annoyed, and for the first time Kevin sat up, frowning angrily. “Hey, I may be a vampire, but I’m a _wrestler_ first, and no way am I not going to the WWE, no matter what. And besides, you--” Kevin broke off and looked away again, but not before he saw Sami’s eyes. They both sat in silence for a moment, hearing the unsaid _you were here_ hanging in the air.

Sami’s voice was terribly gentle. “Kevin, when was the last time you had any blood?”

“About… nine months,” Kevin admitted. He wanted to cry again. He should be stronger. He could get by on less, he knew it. “There was a house show where Nakamura got a cut on his shoulder and I managed to have some then. I can go longer. I have in the past.”

“You’ve never actually bitten anyone?” At Kevin’s frantic head-shake, Sami looked thoughtful, like he was just thinking about this as a challenge, like a ladder match. “Maybe it wouldn’t kill them.”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Kevin wailed. “I can’t take the chance. The one thing Rougeau did tell me was there are vampire hunters. He promised to keep me safe from them, and I walked away from that. As long as I don’t kill anyone, though, maybe I can steer clear of them.”

Sami was frowning. “I can see you in mirrors.”

“Apparently vampires like to spread lots of misinformation about their weaknesses,” Kevin said with a sigh. “I show up in mirrors, I can handle sunlight, I can cross running water.”

“Holy symbols?”

Kevin winced. “Those work.” He’d had to wear heavy gloves to pack away his Bible and crucifixes--he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw them away. He couldn’t enter sacred ground anymore. It wasn’t worth regretting, but he still did sometimes.

“You still eat regular food,” Sami said.

“Yeah, well, here’s the thing,” Kevin said with some exasperation, “I can still eat regular food just fine, I just don’t get any _sustenance_ from it. But I still eat when I get stressed, like I always did, and it still apparently gets metabolized--I don’t know how it works! I don’t know any vampire nutritionists! But yeah, here I am, the fat vampire.” He kicked his heels against the bed angrily. “I thought at least I’d get to be forever young and slender and cool-looking, but no.”

“I’m glad you didn’t stay young forever,” Sami said thoughtfully. “It would be weird if you looked a lot younger than me.” He paused. “I like the way you look now,” he said.

Kevin didn’t know what to say for a second. Sami was always saying odd things like that so matter-of-factly, but it was even weirder when it was about being a vampire.

“How about the cool stuff?” Sami said. “Can you turn into mist?”

“I’ve never been able to,” Kevin admitted.

“Mind control powers?”

“I don’t… I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you use them without thinking. Maybe that’s why your promos are so good.”

“Geez, I hope not,” Kevin said, wincing. He wanted that to be his own skill, not some supernatural fluke.

“Can you turn into a bat?”

“Actually,” Kevin said, “that I can do.”

“No way.” Sami’s eyes were wide. “That’s amazing.”

“It’s not as cool as you’d think,” Kevin said glumly. “It’s not useful in wrestling at all, and I almost got killed by a lady with a broom one time. I do use it to sneak into zoos after hours now and then, that’s pretty cool.”

“I want to see it,” Sami said. “Come on. Show me.”

Kevin gave him a long look, suspecting he was being mocked. Then he shrugged and _concentrated_ , and poofed into bat form. Unfortunately, he wasn’t prepared for Sami to give a shout of utter astonishment; startled, he panicked for a second and banged into the walls and ceiling for a bit before coming to rest on the bed again, fluttering his wings and panting a little.

“Amazing.” Sami was really huge now, looming over him. He looked at Kevin for a long moment. “You’re cute,” he said.

This was not at all how Kevin had ever imagined Sami responding to seeing his friend turn into a bat. He wrinkled his nose and chittered in annoyance, and Sami broke into giggles. “You’re _really_ cute,” Sami said.

Kevin turned back into a human. “I’m not cute. I’m a terrifying, bloodsucking creature of the night,” he said haughtily, crossing his arms.

“Really more of a blood _licking_ creature of the night,” Sami pointed out. “You’ve never bitten anyone? Seriously?”

“No,” Kevin said shortly.

Sami lifted an eyebrow. “I seem to remember you biting me a bunch of times, back then.”

Kevin looked away. They didn’t talk much about _back then._ “Never to actually draw blood. Never with my--my teeth.”

“Wait, you have fangs? You do _not_ have fangs, I would have noticed fangs.” Sami got onto the bed, peering at Kevin’s mouth.

“They… they retract.” Kevin felt weirdly embarrassed and wasn’t sure why. This wasn’t how he had imagined _any_ of this conversation going, _ever._

“I want to see them.”

“I don’t think--agh!” Kevin’s voice broke off into a squawk as Sami put a finger in his mouth, running it across his teeth.

“Come on, you turned into a _bat,_ showing me your fangs is nothing compared to that, right?” His finger was warm and gentle, tasting slightly of salt as he pressed against Kevin’s teeth, his face so close to Kevin’s, smiling slightly, flushed bright--

“ _Stop it.”_ Kevin shoved Sami away and Sami tumbled backwards onto the bed, looking surprised. “It’s not _funny_ , Sami. You don’t understand.”

A variety of expressions went across Sami’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding truly contrite. “You’re suffering, and I’m not helping.”

“You’re really not helping,” Kevin said.

Sami nodded, his face gone serious. “I’ll send Steph a message. We’ll get our jobs back. And then we’ll find some way to help you. It’s going to be okay.”

Kevin felt sudden tears at the corners of his eyes. _It’s going to be okay._ He didn’t really believe that, but it felt awfully good to have someone say it to him.

Sami rolled off the bed and tumbled onto his own bed. He pulled off his shirt, yawning. “I assume you don’t need to sleep in a coffin or anything fancy like that. Pretty sure I would have noticed that after all our years on the road together,” he said, getting under the blankets.

Kevin stared at him. “You just found out I’m a vampire, and now you’re just… going to go to sleep?”

“Well, we do have to get some rest,” Sami said patiently.

“I mean, you’re not… worried or…”

Sami frowned at him. “Kev, apparently you’ve been a vampire as long as I’ve known you. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it long ago, I assume.” He closed his eyes and smothered another yawn. “Get some sleep. We’ll make plans tomorrow.”

He was asleep almost immediately--Sami could always fall asleep instantly. Kevin got into bed more slowly, sneaking glances at Sami’s sleeping face. It felt… weird, having someone know his secret. Not being so alone.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the feeling of Sami’s finger up against his teeth, warm and probing. _You bit me a lot of times, back then._ The softness at the spot where Sami’s neck met his shoulder. The yielding tender feel of the place on his side where his rib cage stopped and his stomach began. He could never seem to stop himself from doing it, tempting himself, yearning for more. The struggle, the agonizing struggle not to just bite and feed and take his fill at last, to taste it one more time--

_No. I won’t taste Sami’s blood again. Never again._

He fell asleep with his hand clamped over his mouth, his teeth aching, his dreams full of horrible beautiful memories.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin continues to starve, Sami continues to try and think of solutions, and both of them continue to try very hard not to think of certain things.

“We could pay a hospital.” Sami’s feet were on the dashboard and he was idly drumming his hands on his knees. “We’re rich enough now to buy you a supply.”

Kevin sighed, staring at the road outside. “It has to be fresh. I don’t know how to explain it, but it… loses its vitality fast once it’s outside a human body. All those movies with vampires storing bottles of blood like wine in their cellar? Nope. Doesn’t work that way.”

“Huh.” Sami cocked his head. “Why is that? Do you think it’s because of oxidation?”

“I have no idea,” Kevin said wearily. “I just know that it doesn’t stay good.” 

“So it’s better the fresher it is,” Sami mused. “Obviously that means the very best blood would be stuff you took direct from a human body.”

“I guess that would follow.”

“You’ve never tasted any blood right from the veins?”

I _told_ you, I don’t have a sire’s protection, I can’t risk killing anyone.”

“I bet you could do it without killing them.”

“Or maybe once I actually bit someone that would push me right over the edge,” Kevin snapped. “Maybe I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from draining them dry, maybe I’d lose all control and just--” _Take everything, take everything, take everything you’ve wanted for so long._ Kevin breathed carefully through his nose for a minute. “I don’t know if I’d be strong enough.” He was well aware of how weak he was already.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have gotten Steph to hire us back,” Sami said. He was looking out the window at the fields slipping by. “We should have gone somewhere better for you. Some hardcore promotion.”

“No fucking way,” Kevin said. “I’d rather starve than give up on being a WWE superstar, especially to go to some rathole like CZW. Look, it’s only been nine months. I’ve gone a year before.” He didn’t like to think about how it had been at the end, though: dazed and weary, practically hallucinating with hunger. He’d been feuding with Ambrose for the Intercontinental title, and Ambrose had finally gotten a bad scrape on his shoulder, enough to get a trickle of blood running down his arm. Kevin had gotten him in a headlock and shoved his face against Ambrose’s arm, letting the blood smear his lips, gasping with relief at this reprieve.

“So whose blood have you tasted?” Sami said. “I remember you having some of Colt’s, and you practically couldn’t _avoid_ getting some of Seth’s into you in that gory Ring of Honor match.” A pause. “And mine, of course,” he added lightly.

The wheel twitched a little; Kevin smoothed it out, focusing on the road. “Franky. Sexxxy Eddy. Necro Butcher--”

“--Really? You drank _Necro Butcher’s_ blood?” Sami sounded deeply impressed. “Did it taste different?”

“Everyone’s blood tastes different,” Kevin admitted. “Necro Butcher’s tasted… glossy.”

“Glossy?”

“I dunno, it’s really hard to describe. It’s not exactly the blood I taste, it’s the energy, and his was… sharp and glossy.”

“Who else?” Sami sounded so curious and interested that Kevin couldn’t help but keep answering, even as his soul cramped with hunger. 

“The Briscoes tasted like… burning leaves and pine cones. Colt tasted concerned, with a hint of burnt sugar.”

“He tasted _concerned?”_ Sami’s voice sounded amused. 

Kevin shrugged. “I don’t know how else to put it, man. Some people taste like abstract things. Dean Ambrose tastes like danger and gin. Nakamura tasted like the wind on the beach. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but that’s how he tasted.” He waited, caught between terror and a desire for confession, for Sami to ask the inevitable: _and how did my blood taste?_

But Sami didn’t ask, he just looked out at the road for a while. “So how long is it good for?” he asked after a while. “If there’s blood on someone’s clothes--”

“It goes bad fast,” Kevin said. “I got some bloody handwraps out of a locker in IWS, but even though the match had just happened it was--” His stomach turned at the memory of the taste, like rotten fruit. The shame of rummaging through Damian’s smelly duffel bag like a scavenger. “--No good.”

“‘No good’ like it tasted gross? Or ‘no good’ like it didn’t give you sustenance anymore?” Sami’s voice was as clinical as if he were discussing strategy in a match. 

“What difference does it make?”

Sami kicked the dashboard in a sudden jerky motion, but his voice remained level. “The difference is whether you live or die,” he said. “I mean, there’s a big difference between having to eat food that tastes bad and trying to eat, like, grass. We can at least keep you alive, even if it’s disgusting.”

“No, it’s that the energy in it is all gone,” Kevin said. “It would be like trying to eat dirt, or drink gasoline.”

Sami sighed, exasperated. “Okay, okay. What’s the longest the blood’s ever been out of a human and stayed edible?”

“Jeez, I don’t keep a _stopwatch_ ,” Kevin mumbled. 

“Well maybe you fucking _should,_ ” Sami snarled. “I would expect you to treat this more carefully. It’s your _life,_ Kevin!”

“There was always plenty in RoH,” Kevin said defensively. “I didn’t have to be all methodical about it.”

“You should have told me years ago,” Sami said. “I would have gotten this all straight.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe it still has to be in contact with human skin? Connected to the person whose energy it carries?”

_His hand, smeared with brilliant scarlet. The most beautiful blood, the most delicious. He laughed with joy as he licked it clean, the audience’s groans of horror distant and unimportant in his ears as he finally got his fill._

_It tasted like heaven._

He shoved the memory aside. “That’s not it,” he forced himself to say. “But it probably has to be within sixty seconds or so.”

Sami beamed at him. “See? That’s a data point, that’s something. We’ll get a handle on this, Kevin.”

* * *

Another house show, another match against Strowman and Lashley. Sami was getting pretty tired of this shit. He was mad, and he was worried about Kevin, and he was _tired_ of Bobby Lashley. He wasn’t the only one, either. The crowd was restless, and they were starting to boo Lashley and cheer Sami and Kevin. Sami sure couldn’t blame them; they were a hundred times more interesting to watch than Boring Bobby. He wanted more exciting matches. He wanted higher stakes. But--he admitted to himself as Kevin tagged him in and the crowd erupted into applause--he wanted to keep tagging with Kevin, too. He couldn’t hold the IC title and still have matches with Kevin. It wasn’t fair. He wanted it all.

Somehow his anger fuelled him enough that he managed to get in a really solid Helluva Kick, and Lashley collapsed in the middle of the ring.

“Pin him!” he heard Kevin yelling from the apron. “Pin him, pin him!” Sami jumped forward, throwing himself on Lashley… then paused, looking down at him as the crowd screamed its approval. At his shiny bald forehead.

Straddling him, Sami pulled his hand back and punched Bobby Lashley as hard as he could on the brow. Once, twice, three times-- _ow._ He shook his numb hand out; Lashley had a skull like a rock.

“What are you _doing?”_ Kevin howled. 

The crowd noise was shifting, a fair amount of boos mixing in with the cheers now. They wanted him to go for the pin, for the clean win. Well, screw them. Sami gritted his teeth and punched Lashley again, knuckles-first, trying to get all his strength behind it.

“Sami, just pin him!” Kevin yelled.

Sami looked up and met his eyes and Kevin froze, staring at him. For one beat of silence they looked at each other.

And then Lashley hurled Sami off of him and sent him tumbling head over heels across the ring, coming up against the ropes with an unpleasant _thud._

It ended quickly after that, because Sami’s head was spinning--okay, he’d overplayed his vertigo to some extent, but now it really _was_ spinning--and the next thing he knew he was getting pinned _again_ and the bell was ringing.

He rolled to the edge of the ring and Kevin was there, helping him off the apron. They leaned against each other as they staggered up the ramp together--Kevin was supporting him, but his face was pale and he seemed to be having problems keeping his balance too. He was getting weaker every day, and Sami knew it was _really_ bad because he didn’t even complain.

They made it through Gorilla and into the corridor beyond before Sami’s knees gave out again and he sagged. Kevin caught him, but then pushed him hard against the wall in a motion that was part supportive and part angry. “You should have pinned him,” Kevin said. “The crowd wanted you to win! They were cheering you! Why didn’t you just pin him?”

“You know exactly why I didn’t pin him,” Sami snarled. “I thought maybe--maybe I could bust him open. Then I could tag you in and you’d be able to--you know--”

“They were cheering for you,” Kevin mumbled.

“--But I wasn’t strong enough.” Sami glared down at his bruised knuckles. “Damn it.”

“They wanted to cheer for you,” Kevin said.

“Oh, _fuck them,_ ” Sami snapped. “They don’t really give a damn about me, they just wanted to see someone beat Lashley. They’d have cheered for Kurt Hawkins or James Ellsworth, or any pathetic underdog loser they could empathize with.”

Kevin looked oddly distressed. “They were _singing._ ”

_For fuck’s sake._ “Did their song help you one bit? Are you stronger because of it? Are you less hungry? No? Then I don’t care.” He shrugged off Kevin’s hand and wobbled down the hall toward the locker room. Kevin trailed behind him, his feet dragging with exhaustion, and Sami resisted the sudden urge to turn around and wrap his arms around him and tell him it would be okay, it would be okay somehow. Maybe it wouldn’t be, he thought miserably as they grabbed their bags. Maybe Kevin would just starve to death and Sami would watch him waste away, all because Kevin was too _scared_ to risk actually biting someone. 

_There’s an easy solution,_ whispered a small voice in his mind. _You know there is._

Sami shook his head. He wasn’t thinking about that. He wasn’t.

“I’ll drive tonight,” he said as they threw their things in the trunk.

“But your vertigo--”

“--forget the vertigo,” Sami snapped, feeling inexplicably annoyed that Kevin would parrot his ridiculous excuses. “You need to keep your strength up.”

Kevin slumped in the passenger seat, closing his eyes, and this time Sami couldn’t keep himself from reaching over and clasping Kevin’s hand for a second. 

“Hey, buddy,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “We’ll find a way.” Kevin was going to die. Sami’s mind flinched away from the thought, spinning back to the problem, the problem, fix the problem. “So if I _had_ been able to bust Lashley open, would his blood have still been good by the time I tagged you in?”

“Probably,” said Kevin. “But you can’t just go around busting people open all the time.”

“Oh?” Sami could hear how sharp his voice was, but he couldn’t seem to soften it. “Just watch me.”

“You’ll get in trouble.”

“I don’t care.” Sami forced his hands to loosen their grip on the wheel. “Those steel stairs. I bet I can use those to cut someone. We’d be better off focusing on wrestlers who don’t wear shirts--more acreage we could scrape up. Maybe we should pick a fight with Finn? He wears the least clothing.”

“I don’t want you to bloody Finn.” Kevin sounded miserable. “And you don’t want to either.”

Anger snarled in Sami’s chest: at the universe, at Kevin, at himself. Since when had _he_ become the ruthless one, the cruel and heartless one? “I’m trying to keep you _alive,_ ” he said. “Apparently you don’t care enough to do what’s necessary, but I fucking do, okay?”

_No you don’t,_ his mind snickered at him. _You don’t care enough to do the obvious thing, you coward._

“I’m _not_ a coward,” Sami snapped.

“I didn’t say you were,” Kevin said sullenly. “Look, just let me get some sleep, okay? I’ve made it longer than this before. I just need to rest more and save my energy.”

“Fine,” said Sami. His voice sounded tight and cruel in his ears. “Fine, just get some sleep.”

Sami headed out into the night, sneaking glances at Kevin in the rearview mirror from time to time. He was so pale. He kept saying he was fine, that he could last longer, but he obviously couldn’t. He was going to die. He was going to die because he was too proud to give up on being the top wrestler in the world. Sami was just going to watch his dumb, brave, stubborn genius friend die.

_Such a simple solution,_ the quiet little voice in his head said. _Why won’t you do it?_

Sami felt his hands clench on the steering wheel, felt his jaw tighten. He wasn’t thinking about it. He wasn’t.

_What are you afraid of?_ his own mind whispered at him mockingly, and Sami drove through the night, his friend dying little by little beside him, and the list of answers to that question stretched out across all the silent miles of darkened road.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Kevin continues to weaken, Sami gets cut during a dark match and hurries back to let Kevin have a taste.

**December, 2009. The night before Final Battle.**

Kevin’s knee hurt, and his back hurt. They’d just lost to the Embassy, their losing streak was continuing. And that was nothing compared to the fact that they’d failed to get their titles back from the Bucks in PWG, _or_ from the Briscoes in Ring of Honor last month. Two tries, two failures. Kevin just wanted their tag titles back.

“We’ll get them back soon enough,” Sami said, then laughed at the look on Kevin’s face. “I can always tell when you’re thinking about them,” he said. He stretched, then winced, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Damn,” he said, looking at his fingers. “Must have banged myself against the barricade harder than I thought.”

There were smudges of blood on his fingers and palm. Kevin blinked at them, relieved that he’d gotten a good taste off Davey Richards last month. Davey’s blood had tasted like antiseptic and wet dog, but it had been plenty filling. He wouldn’t need to eat again for a while. He pushed, once again, the question of what Sami’s blood might taste like to the back of his mind. He’d never needed to taste any of Sami’s blood; he always made sure his opponents bled more than enough.

His knee throbbed with sudden, imperative pain. Nothing ever seemed to make it stop. He’d almost considered quitting, lately--but then what would he eat? He imagined himself limping around in a dark alley, begging someone to slow down so he could bite them, and his involuntary laugh had a bitter edge to it. How long could he keep this up?

Sami gave him a curious look, and Kevin said “I’m slowing you down,” without thinking. “It’s this damn knee. Maybe you’d be better off without me--”

Sami laughed, a sharp bark of rejection, and clapped his hand over Kevin’s mouth to cut off his words.

Sami put his bloodstained hand over Kevin’s mouth, pressing it against Kevin’s lips.

His bloodstained hand against Kevin’s mouth.

Sami’s blood.

Kevin’s mouth.

_Sami._

* * *

**Now, Houston Texas**

Sami hated this. He hated fighting Braun Strowman. He hated fighting Bobby Lashley and Seth Rollins. And he hated that Kevin wasn’t by his side as he did it. Because Kevin had just lost to Finn, and so Sami was fighting a dark match _alone_.

Okay, not technically alone. Elias and Jinder were there too. But he might as well be alone, because nothing was like having Kevin at his side, solid and _real_ in a way these guys would never be.

“Kevin’s gonna beat you!” he yelled at Braun, who didn’t even seem to notice. “He’s gonna climb the ladder and get that briefcase at Money on the Bank, and then you’ll see who’s boss!”

Braun didn’t seem rattled by this threat. Instead it was Sami who felt a sudden chill touch his spine. What if Kevin _did_ get that briefcase? What if he became Universal champion again? He’d be Stephanie McMahon’s golden boy, the triumphant two-time champion.

Would he even need scrappy Sami Zayn in his corner anymore?

Sami gripped the ropes harder, trying to will his sudden shortness of breath away. It didn’t do any good to worry about it. It _didn’t._ He was focused so hard on trying to get past his unease that he didn’t see Braun rushing toward their corner. The next thing he knew, he was tumbling off the apron, the joyous shrieks of the crowd ringing in his ears, and coming up hard against the announce table. He felt the sudden burn of the edge of the table slide hot across his shoulder; wincing, he raised a hand to the pain and brought back fingers stained with blood.

_Oh._ He stared at the blood, feeling giddy relief go through him. He was bleeding. He was bleeding, and it was an _accident,_ so that meant it was okay--

He barely heard the bell ring. Seth was standing over Jinder, his hand being raised, but Sami was already on his way up the ramp, practically running. It was going to be okay, it was all going to be okay.

_“Kev.”_ Kevin looked up when he burst into the locker room. “Come here, come here, come on, hurry,” Sami babbled, grabbing him and dragging him out into the maze of corridors. 

“What--”

“--I’m bleeding,” Sami explained. Kevin went tense in his grip, but Sami hardly noticed. _There,_ a supply closet, it would do. He threw open the door and hustled Kevin inside. “Look,” he said, gesturing to his shoulder, to the scrape there. It wasn’t even a trickle of blood, but it would do, right? “I got cut. You can-- you can--”

“No,” said Kevin.

Sami stared at his face, blank in the light of the dim closet bulb. “No? But it’s-- You’re--”

“No,” said Kevin again. He backed up a step in the tiny space, knocking over a broom. He didn’t seem to notice. “Not you.”

“Not me.” Sami felt a weird, leaden weight settle in his stomach.

“Not your blood.”

The scrape on his shoulder ached like failure, sharpening his tone. “Is there some reason my blood isn’t _good enough for you,_ Kev?”

Kevin shook his head, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “I won’t do it, Sami.”

“You’re going to die because I’m-- because my blood is… is disgusting to you,” Sami said. “You’d rather die.” 

Kevin said nothing. 

“My blood seemed plenty good enough for you back in Ring of Honor!” Sami said, and wanted to die at how agonized he sounded.

Kevin made a small sound and clapped his hand over his mouth. “No,” he said, muffled but clear.

“Get out of here, then,” Sami said. Kevin stared at him, and Sami kicked the wall so hard that the shelves rattled. “You don’t fucking need me--get the fuck _away_ from me.”

His eyes still fixed on him, Kevin fumbled for the doorknob, opened the door, and fled.

Grabbing a rag, Sami scrubbed at his shoulder, wiping away every bit of unneeded, unwanted blood. His eyes stung as he threw the rag across the closet. “That bastard,” he said out loud to the mops and the bottles of bleach. “I should have known-- I should have known he’d never--”

His knees gave way and he sank to the floor, shaking with bitter anger, all of his hopeful joy turned to ashes. He touched the pained emotion like a bruise, pressing. Pushing. _Admit it, Sami. Look at how you felt. Be honest._

His joy.

His anticipation.

His joy.

He’d wanted it so much. He pressed his hands to his eyes, shaking his head, but it was no use denying it to himself anymore. He’d kept shying away from the hope in his own heart, unwilling to look at it too closely, but when he’d seen his own blood-- He’d been ecstatic at the idea of coming back to Kevin, offering it up to Kevin, offering _himself_ up to Kevin like a gift. All the way back he’d imagined Kevin’s lips on his skin, the little sounds of gratitude and relief he’d make. He’d wanted to nourish Kevin, wanted to keep Kevin alive with his own life.

Wanted to make it so Kevin would never, _could_ never leave him again, never walk away from him again. To bind his friend to him with blood, keep him dependent, in thrall.

_Keep you by my side forever, your life and my life as one. To be the reason you were alive._

Kevin was a vampire, but Sami was the monster. No better than Rougeau. And Kevin would rather die than be bound to him that way. Of course he would. 

Sami crouched on the floor of the closet, feeling the terrible dark yearning pounding in his veins, in his blood that surely tasted like selfishness and the heavy dull iron of chains. 

After a while he stood up and went back to the locker room. Kevin was already gone. “He grabbed a ride with Seth and Roman,” Bayley said when he asked. “Hey, are you okay?” Her eyes were full of worry, and an implicit offer of a hug and some comfort.

Once he might have accepted it. But now he just shrugged and said, “Yeah, I’m fine,” and headed out to the rental car for the long drive into the dark.

* * *

“You okay, man?”

Seth Rollins’s voice was concerned as he glanced in the mirror back at Kevin. In the passenger seat, Roman just shrugged.

“I’m fine,” said Kevin, slumping in the back seat. “I’m just hungry.”

“We’ll get something here soon,” Seth said. 

“It’s fine,” said Kevin, grateful that he hadn’t made some crack about him needing to diet, at least. “I can’t have what I really want anyway.”

Seth and Roman traded quizzical glances at this cryptic remark and clearly agreed not to ask him any further about it, which was another reason to be grateful. The city slipped by, and Kevin slid into sleep broken up with fitful, horrible dreams.

In the dream it was 2009 and he was in the ring in New York, explaining that he had to retire, but he couldn’t seem to focus on the words. All he could think about was Sami, there in the ring with him, warm and bright and beautiful. Kevin wanted to eat him up. It wasn’t even hunger, it was something ravening and transcendent, it was setting all of him on fire--just one taste, he’d only had one taste, it was so _unfair._ He deserved _more,_ didn’t he? He couldn’t be expected to live without it ever again. 

Part of him was trying to get away, a little tiny scrap of rationality clinging to existence, yammering to go, get out, quit now. But then Sami threw his arms around him, whispering in his ear: _No no no, you can’t go, you have to stay with me, stay with me Kevin,_ and at the touch of his hands something just… gave way.

Damn right he was going to stay.

He was going to stay and take everything he deserved.

The metal chair was cold in his hands, and memory of the _thump_ it made against Sami’s head made Kevin, half-asleep in the back seat of Seth’s car, twist and whimper. But in the dream he felt only a strange mix of satisfaction and disappointment: no blood; it wouldn’t be easy because of that fucking mask. There were rules that still had to be followed, of course, because he was a _wrestler._ Even though nothing in the world seemed to make sense anymore except his craving, he was proud that he remembered that. There were forms to be followed. He was doing it the right way. He was settling it in the ring.

He’d drink Sami’s blood right there in the ring in front of everyone someday. He’d have his fill.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin and Sami haven't spoken since Kevin refused to drink Sami's blood. At Money in the Bank, Kevin gets thrown off a ladder, and that's only the beginning of the badness. Sami's going to be gone a long time, and before he leaves, he has an ultimatum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sami cuts himself in this chapter--not dangerously, but deliberately, repeatedly, and methodically. The chapter also deals with Sami’s real-life injury: I usually prefer to not write in depth about real injuries, but there was no easy way to continue the story without addressing it and making it part of the plot.

**Money in the Bank**

The world fell away.

Kevin wanted to scream something, wanted to grab onto the ladder, but his grip was too weak. Braun Strowman lifted him up and tossed him away.

It was the weirdest thing, how time slowed down as you fell off a ladder. And Kevin had never fallen off such a high ladder before, so it seemed like he had a lot of time. He expected his life to flash before his eyes, but it didn’t. The only thing he saw was Sami’s smile. What was extra-weird was it wasn’t Sami’s sharp, sarcastic, impish smile, either. It was his old smile, the smile like sunlight, warm and open. A smile like heaven.

Kevin fell and fell, like the morning star. 

He didn’t even feel the impact.

* * *

Angry voices.

One of them was Sami’s.

Kevin tried to open his eyes and the room swam around him. He grabbed on to Sami and staggered to his feet. “I’m fine,” he said by reflex.

“See? He’s fine,” said Sami. “We’re leaving.”

“We?” said Kevin muzzily. He and Sami hadn’t spoken since he’d refused to drink Sami’s blood. He’d dreamed of it every night since then, dreamed that instead of running, he’d stepped forward and put his lips to Sami’s bright-burning skin and-- Was he dreaming now? “We?”

“Yes, we,” said Sami. “I’m taking you and you’re coming with me and we’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” Kevin managed to say as they made their way through the halls, Sami propping him up. People kept looking like they were going to interfere, and then they’d look at Sami’s face and back away. Kevin couldn’t see Sami’s face. He wondered what it looked like.

“Back to my hotel room,” said Sami. “And then we’re getting you something to eat.”

Kevin’s stomach turned over at the thought of eating solid food; he’d never gone this long without blood. Apparently he’d reached the point when he couldn’t even eat human food anymore, he thought numbly. “I don’t think I can eat anything,” he mumbled.

Sami didn’t seem to understand what he meant. “Oh, you’re going to,” he said grimly, dragging Kevin into the garage and slinging him into a rental car.

“I missed you,” Kevin said as Sami started the car. He winced at the plaintive sound of his own voice, but he was so exhausted he didn’t seem to have the energy to lie anymore.

Sami’s fingers tightened on the wheel and he jolted the car into reverse so fast the tires squealed. “I missed you too,” he said. He sounded angry about it.

Kevin closed his eyes and tried not to look like he was going to die.

* * *

Sami jostled him into the hotel room, the door closing behind them with a soft _thump_. Everything in the room seemed soft, so much softer than any room they’d ever shared back in the indies: soft carpet, soft pillows, the soft beige walls. Only Sami wasn’t soft; he stood in the middle of the room, looking as hard and brittle as ice, as Kevin staggered to the bed and sat down on the edge of it.

“Thank you,” Kevin said into the silence. “I didn’t want the trainers poking at me anymore. I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine, but--

“You’re not fine,” Sami said. “And neither am I.”

Kevin pulled his eyes up to Sami’s face.

“I’m…” Sami’s voice faltered for a second. “I’m hurt.”

“What?”

“I’m flying to Birmingham tomorrow.”

The edges of Kevin’s vision went gray. Everyone knew what flying to Birmingham meant.

“Both rotator cuffs,” Sami went on into the silence, his voice as clinical as if he were discussing someone else’s bones and muscle. Someone else’s life. “I’ll have surgery on one next week, then the other a little after. I’ll be out the rest of the year.”

Kevin tried to process this. He couldn’t. “What?” he said again.

Sami shook his head. “You’re a fucking mess,” he said. His voice was oddly gentle for all that his words were harsh. “You can’t last much longer without blood. And I’m not leaving until you drink some of mine.”

“No,” said Kevin, a quick reflexive gasp.

Sami was taking out his wallet, pulling something from it. There was a tiny glint of metal between his fingers. He held it up so Kevin could see the razor blade in his hand. “Kevin,” he said. “I’m not leaving you to die. You _have_ to drink, just a little.” The glint of metal in his hands sparkled, and Kevin realized Sami’s hand was shaking. “I’m so sorry, but you have to do it.”

“Sami, please,” said Kevin. “Please don’t--”

“You _have_ to have something,” Sami said. His voice was hoarse. He put the blade to his bicep, but his hand was trembling so hard he couldn’t hold it there. “Just--please, you have to try to get a little into you. Just a few drops--”

“ _\--Stop it,”_ Kevin said. “Just a few drops? Sami, you idiot, I couldn’t--”

“--I know you hate it, I know it’s disgusting, but there’s no one else, Kevin.”

“Disgusting? _Disgusting?_ ” Kevin found himself on his feet somehow, wavering, staring at Sami. He was so tired, he was so exhausted, Sami was hurt, Sami was _leaving him,_ and suddenly everything he hadn’t let himself say was spilling from him like pain and poison: “Sami, I’ve never wanted anything in the world as much as I’ve wanted you. You taste like-- like joy, like paradise, I could get drunk off just one drop of your blood. I just want--” He realized he’d shuffled forward one desperate step and he forced himself to back up again. 

Sami was staring at him, his face blank. With horror, obviously. But Kevin had to say it all now, he had to get it out there. Sami was leaving, Kevin might die, Sami should know it all. 

“Don’t you see, that was what happened, back-- back in Ring of Honor. I tasted your blood one time and then I was-- I was like an addict, Sami, I craved it all the time, it was… it was so good and it was all I ever wanted. It took me _years_ to break that, and--” And he never had, not really; he never once tasted blood without remembering the pure sweet rush of Sami’s blood, without wanting it so much he could weep. Every day, every day, he had to fight it every day. He was so weak. “Sami,” he said, wrapping his arms around himself as if he could keep himself from lunging at him. “If I taste your blood again I’ll… I’ll do anything to keep having it. I’ll never be able to drink anything else. I’ll hurt you again. _I’ll hurt you again,_ ” he almost wailed.

Sami was breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on Kevin’s face. “You,” he said, then stopped. “You want it,” he said.

“I’ve never stopped wanting it,” Kevin said miserably. 

“Just me,” said Sami. “You just want me.”

Kevin looked into his eyes then. “Why would I ever want anyone else?” he said. “You’re perfect.” Sami blinked at him, and Kevin looked away again. “I’m sorry, Sami, I’m so sorry. I’m a monster.”

“No,” said Sami. And then he smiled, that smile like the sun, bright and joyous. He held up the hand with the razor blade in it, suddenly entirely steady. “No,” he said. “You’re not.” 

He touched the blade to his bicep, just below the shoulder, and drew it lightly across the skin. Scarlet beaded up in its wake.

“Neither of us are,” Sami said. He drew a second delicate line below the first. “Or both of us are. It doesn’t matter which.”

* * *

“What the hell are you _doing?_ ” Kevin yelped, staring at Sami’s arm.

Sami hardly felt the little threads of pain across his skin. “Keeping you alive,” he said. He felt like he could hardly breathe, like surely his delight would be fizzing in his blood.

“I told you,” stammered Kevin, “if I taste your blood, I might-- I might just lose it. Like I lost it before.”

“That’s because you were a fucking idiot and didn’t tell me,” Sami said. “If you’d told me, I’d have given you everything you wanted.”

He drew another line on his arm, just below the others. More blood sprang up, the little beads joining, still too light for gravity to drag at.

“Sami,” Kevin moaned. He put his hand over his mouth. 

“You can’t go berserk from wanting something given freely,” Sami said. “And it will always be given freely, Kevin. Always.” Another little line. This time a thread of blood began to run down the inside of his arm. Sami turned it so Kevin could see the thin trail marking his skin.

“Sami,” said Kevin. He clasped his hands together as if he were holding himself back, as if he were praying. “You don’t want this.” Sami could see the glint of fangs in his mouth now, but he felt no fear, only the certainty of victory. 

“Kevin,” he said, “do you really think I’m afraid to bleed for you?” Another cut, this one deeper, braver. The thread was a trickle now. 

Kevin stared at the blood, and the naked yearning in his eyes made Sami want to laugh with joy: _it’s true, it’s true, he wants me._ The pain in his shoulders was nothing anymore.

“Come here,” Sami said. Kevin took a step forward as if he couldn’t help it, then froze, his hands clenching. “I’m not stopping until you drink,” Sami said. Another cut. There was a latticework of scarlet now, little streams of blood cascading down his arm. Sami cupped his hand, let the blood collect there, warm and vivid.

“Sami,” Kevin breathed. “You can’t want this. You _can’t._ ”

The room was so silent that the first drops of blood that slipped between Sami’s fingers pattered audibly on the beige carpet, a starburst of scarlet on the paleness.

“Kevin,” said Sami, keeping his voice gentle. _”You’re letting me waste my life._ ”

Kevin made a hoarse sound and fell to his knees as if Sami had punched him.

“Come and drink,” Sami said as if there were no other option. 

And finally, _finally,_ Kevin shuffled forward and, with a sob, bent his head to Sami’s cupped hand. 

The room was quiet except for the sound of Kevin’s greedy swallowing. Sami felt Kevin’s tongue caressing the palm of his hand, slipping between his fingers, and had to close his eyes against the rush of pleasure and power. “Oh God,” Kevin whispered against his skin, his head bowed. He was shaking all over. “Oh Jesus, Sami, it’s so good, it’s better than I remembered, it’s… it’s richer now, it’s deeper, it’s _so fucking good._ ”

“Shh,” Sami said, because he was suddenly afraid if Kevin said much more he’d fall to his knees too, he’d gather Kevin up in his arms and kiss the blood from his mouth and sink into a haze of joyous bloodlust with him. “Shh.”

Kevin fell silent again, but the little sounds he made as he drank were doing the strangest things to Sami’s nervous system: how had he even lived without knowing he could make Kevin sound like that, rapturous and contented and blissful? Kevin took Sami’s hand gently in his and turned it over to lick at the other side, running his tongue along Sami’s fingers in a dazed reverie. He pressed his lips to each knuckle in turn, and Sami could hardly breathe: Kevin on his knees in front of him, his mouth pressed to his fingers, his eyes closed and his breathing deep and slow; it was everything he’d never let himself want. And it was his now.

Kevin was still trembling, tiny little tremors shaking his body. Sami could feel his lips moving against his skin as if he were whispering something. He put his free hand on the top of Kevin’s head and felt Kevin shiver at his touch. “You don’t drink anyone else’s blood from now on,” Sami said. “I don’t care if someone bleeds all over you, you don’t touch a single drop. Only mine.”

Kevin raised his head then, his eyes huge and dark. There were smudges of scarlet on his lips, in his beard. It should look grotesque. It didn’t. “Only yours,” Kevin said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Promise me,” Sami said. His shoulders didn’t hurt at all. He was going to rehab so fucking hard and come back stronger than ever and be by Kevin’s side where he belonged. “No one else.”

“I’d rather _die,_ ” Kevin said fiercely.

“You won’t have to,” Sami said. “You’ll come to Florida every week while I rehab. You’ll have everything you want.” _You’re mine now._ “I’ll give you everything you want, you never have to worry about that.” _Finally._

“I don’t deserve you,” Kevin said, staring up at him.

“Probably not,” Sami said. He wanted to laugh with joy. Two monsters together. “But I’m what you’ve got, Kev.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sami endures rehabilitation and being away from the ring, he finds some solace in providing some nourishment and strength to Kevin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a couple more scenes of Sami deliberately cutting himself in this chapter--once fairly deeply but not dangerously.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want to go out and do something? I mean, aren’t you bored? You must be bored.”

Sami would have punched Kevin’s shoulder to cut off his babbling if he weren’t still unable to move his arm easily. “Kev, I keep busy during the week while you’re gone. I’m doing the comedy stuff, I’ve been to some concerts, I’m not cooped up here.” He waved the arm that wasn’t in a sling around Kevin’s little Montreal living room. It had made sense to escape the sweltering Florida summer, and then it had just… seemed a waste to get his own place when Kevin had his summer home right there. So he stayed there and they met up on Kevin’s days off, and it was… nice.

It was really nice.

At Kevin’s dubious look, Sami almost shrugged, then stopped, wincing. “Look, I know you look forward to just staying in and recharging when you’re home, and I don’t mind just hanging out here with you. I’m just surprised I don’t annoy you.”

“Oh, you annoy me,” Kevin said more cheerfully. “But that’s okay.”

“Thanks a lot,” Sami grumbled, but it was through a smile.

“I mean, the awful food you cook, the nonstop snobby music opinions, the fact that you hate watching wrestling with me--”

“--Hey, I like watching wrestling with you,” Sami said. It was true that lately he hadn’t minded it half as much, but he wasn’t going to tell Kevin that was because he’d discovered it was fun to watch _Kevin_ watching wrestling: the way his eyes would light up at a cool move or how he’d tear up during emotional moments and try to hide it.

“Ah _ha,_ ” Kevin crowed. “So you don’t deny the terrible food and the snobbishness?”

“Terrible food? You ate the vegan chili just fine, and the hummus never goes to waste either,” Sami said.

Kevin looked slightly shifty-eyed at this, but didn’t argue with him. “The snobbishness,” he mumbled.

“If having some standards in my musical tastes makes me snobby, then I guess I’m guilty as charged.”

“Ha,” said Kevin, softly.

“Doofus,” said Sami.

“Dork,” said Kevin.

A surprisingly companionable silence fell in the living room as they sat on the sofa together, a square of afternoon light falling across Sami’s lap and creeping over to brush Kevin’s hand. 

Finally, Sami cleared his throat. “I’ve been meaning to ask, are you… hungry?”

Kevin snorted. “Like you said, the hummus didn’t go to waste. I’m fine.”

“No, I mean…” Sami looked down at his hands in the square of sunlight. “I mean, are you _hungry_ hungry?”

“Oh,” said Kevin as the emphasis of the word sank in. They hadn’t talked about it since Money in the Bank. Not since he’d knelt in front of Sami and licked his fingers clean of blood. “Oh, uh.” He almost stammered for a moment, then seemed to pull himself together. “Nah, man. It’s only been a month or so. I can easily go three or four months before I even notice it.”

“You’ve never had blood whenever you’ve wanted it?”

Kevin made a nervous, fidgety little motion, then stilled. “Now and then in the indies I’d get it two weeks in a row. But I don’t _need_ it that often.”

“Would you _like_ it that often?” The heartbeat of yearning silence before Kevin shrugged and shook his head told Sami all he needed to know. “Because I’d be fine with cutting myself more often than once a month, you know. It’s barely a scratch. You could have it whenever you wanted it.” Kevin shrugged again, but Sami could see his eyes were dark and dilated, and he was sure if Kevin said anything he’d be able to see fangs. “You liked it, didn’t you?”

“You know I did,” Kevin said in a low voice, and yes, there was a lovely glint of teeth there in his words. “But Sami, I don’t know if I should…”

“Kevin,” Sami said, “you have no idea how _useless_ I feel. You’re fighting all alone while I’m here, and--” The words closed off in his throat for a second as he remembered hearing Kevin’s plaintive voice as Braun dragged him in that stupid port-a-potty: _Someone help me. Please help me._ No one had helped him. No one had been there. Sami had told Kevin he didn’t even watch it, because he couldn’t bear that he hadn’t been there. “--I just want to help somehow. I can’t be there to give you strength; let me give it to you here. _Please,_ ” he said, and would have been appalled at the pleading in his voice if he weren’t so desperate. “Let me feel like my life has some kind of value.”

“Your life is--” Kevin looked at him then, and his voice broke off. After a moment he looked away again. “Okay,” he said. “If it would make you feel better.”

“It would,” said Sami.

* * *

“Why in there?” Kevin said, stopping just outside Sami’s bedroom door. “The living room should be fine.”

“I want to lie down so you can take your time,” Sami said. “The sofa’s not big enough.” He looked up at Kevin, still hovering just outside. “What’s wrong?”

Kevin swallowed. “Uh, I need you to invite me in,” he said. “It’s my house, but it’s your room, and I can’t… I can’t come in unless you ask me to.”

Sami almost smiled, he looked so embarrassed. “So that bit of lore is true?”

“Apparently,” muttered Kevin. He looked annoyed and hopeful at the same time, which was an unexpectedly charming combination. Sami kind of wanted to prolong the moment and enjoy that expression--but on the other hand he also wanted Kevin in his room. Very much.

“Kevin Owens,” said Sami with a sort of laughing formality, “would you please come in?”

Kevin put a hand across the threshold as if he was expecting there to be an invisible barrier, then stepped through the door with a sigh of relief. His expression shifted back to “wary” as Sami started to unbutton his jeans, though. “What are you doing?”

Sami let his jeans drop and kicked them into a corner, leaving his shirt and boxers on. “Well, obviously cutting my arms isn’t going to work,” he said. “In the long run, it’ll show up when I wrestle, and that’s no good. Even in the short run, I got some… awkward questions about it when I went in for my surgery.” _Awkward_ was an understatement; he’s explained it as a bathroom mishap due to decreased mobility, but he’d still ended up getting a battery of psychological tests and a counseling session with a grave-eyed therapist. All of which he’d passed with flying colors, of course: he’d never felt less depressed or self-destructive in his life, after all. Kevin needed him.

Kevin was here in front of him right now, needing him, and Sami had never felt so alive.

“So if you can’t cut your arms, you’ll… uh…” 

Sami shrugged carefully as he opened a drawer in the nightstand and got out the little razor blade he’d tucked there weeks ago, just waiting there for Kevin to bring up wanting to drink. Eventually, apparently, one had to take matters into one’s own hands. “My tights always keep my legs covered, so that seems like a good choice, right?”

Kevin took a tentative step forward. “I guess,” he said.

Sami flipped the thick white comforter back and lay down on the bed--king-sized, luckily. Kevin had redecorated everything since he started making serious money, and the guest bed was luxurious. Sami was pretty sure no one but him had ever used it. He stretched out in the oblong of afternoon sunlight cast across the bed and patted the sheets beside him. “C’mere.”

Kevin crossed the room as if he were aware of each and every step, then sat down on the bed next to Sami. “Right,” he said, more to himself than Sami.

“Lie down,” said Sami, and tugged Kevin’s arm until he collapsed slowly onto his side. Sami shifted up until Kevin’s head was about even with his knees, the two of them diagonal across the bed. The sunlight was bright across his thighs, the whole room brilliant with it. Scenes like this always happened in the dark in fiction, Sami thought almost dreamily. Dark and gloomy and filled with terrible portent. But there was no gloom here, only light. Everything was as it should be: radiant and golden.

He touched the razor blade to the skin of his inner thigh and ran it slowly, deliberately upward.

Kevin made a hoarse little noise and leaned forward to put his mouth to the blood with no hesitation at all.

Sami felt his eyes drift closed as the world narrowed down to just this sunlit moment. There was no rehab, no Braun, no worries, just this. The warm weight of Kevin across his leg, his hand on Sami’s knee, his beard brushing along his thigh, his _mouth_ \--fuck, it was so good. Even the little sting of pain just added sharpness and clarity, focusing all his attention on the sensation of Kevin lapping at his thigh.

“Ah,” whispered Kevin against his leg. “Ah, this is.” Sami waited for him to finish the sentence, but that seemed to be where it ended. The soft strokes of Kevin’s tongue slowed, and Sami realized the little flow of blood must be stopping. Without thinking, knowing only that this was good and right and he didn’t want it to end, Sami reached down again and drew the blade lightly along his skin once more. Kevin made a sound that was half-protest and half frankly greedy hunger, and bent to follow the new line with his lips. 

Sami fumbled to try and put the razor blade back on the nightstand, but the sensation of Kevin’s tongue running along his skin made his motions clumsy, and it fell from his fingers onto the floor. He was getting hard, he realized, as if the sunlight pouring across him were cresting into arousal. That should make him embarrassed, but for a moment he couldn’t remember why: it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Then he managed to remember himself enough to tug his shirt down a little more firmly, hoping Kevin hadn’t noticed. _I could just slip my hand into my boxers and start jacking off,_ the thought came to him, and felt a shudder go through him at the very idea of all that warmth and light and Kevin’s little content noises mingling as he touched himself. _Kevin couldn’t even protest, right? I mean, he needs me too much. He has to stay now even if I--_

He cut the thought off viciously. _Don’t be like that, Sami._

So he kept his hands off himself, but he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it, about how it would feel to let each stroke sync with the strokes of Kevin’s tongue along his skin, how the little sting of pain would dissolve into the pleasure as he got closer. He was getting closer without even touching himself, he realized belatedly, way too close; when Kevin sighed rapturously against his skin there was an agonizing moment of danger that he might just come anyway. He stuffed his hand in his mouth and bit down _hard,_ trying to list all the members of the 1989 Canadiens to distract himself from that imperative pulse of need: _McPhee, Corson, Naslund…_ No, no, no, he wasn’t going to come just from having his best friend’s mouth on his thigh, just from the pleasure of nourishing him, _Robinson, Green, Roy…_

Eventually the urgency ebbed and Sami released a shaky breath as Kevin pulled back, licking his lips. “I, uh. I got some blood on the sheets,” Kevin said, looking chagrined.

“We’re rich. We’ll buy new ones,” Sami said. “We can buy new sheets every week.” _Let’s do this every week, please._ An echo of frisson went through him again at the idea of having this pleasure to look forward to every week and he closed his eyes against it for a moment, then blurted out, “José Charbonneau.”

“What?” Kevin had shoved Sami over to lie down next to him, but now he looked over, puzzled.

“José Charbonneau, he was a winger for the Canadiens. He's even Quebecois, I can’t believe I couldn’t remember him.”

Kevin snorted laughter. “You were… thinking about _hockey_ while I was drinking your blood?”

“I guess,” Sami said. “I mean, what were you thinking about?”

There was a brief silence. Sami sneaked a look at Kevin’s face, but Kevin’s eyes were closed. “I wasn’t really… thinking,” Kevin said finally.

“We’ll do it again next week when you get back,” Sami said firmly. “It makes sense to keep you in top condition even while I’m gone.” An entirely pragmatic decision. “You’ll have some every week.”

His eyes still closed, Kevin bit his lip--and oh yes, there were those fangs, needle-sharp and curving down across his lower lip. They were beautiful. Sami wanted to touch them even more than he’d wanted to touch himself. He was going to think of them later and do just that, he realized: jerk off remembering Kevin’s mouth, how the little line of pain had unfurled across his thigh, guiding Kevin’s tongue along his skin. Imagining how it would feel if those bright fangs--

“Okay,” Kevin whispered. “Every week. If you insist.”

They lay there half-dozing in the sunlight, and Sami was filled with happiness and need and a vast, radiant confusion.

* * *

“Are you sure? Two weeks in a row is--you don’t have to, you know.”

Sami laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “It’s just a little bit of blood, Kevin. I give more than that every time the sports commission has to test us. And this way maybe I can help you beat Strowman. You can do it if you have a little more strength, I know it.”

Kevin wasn’t so sure about that. Things hadn’t been going well with Strowman lately. Sami insisted he didn’t even bother to watch Raw, and Kevin hoped that were true. He didn’t like to think of Sami seeing him in that port-a-potty, getting towed through the backstage corridors, his plaintive voice calling out for someone to please help him…

“Let me help a little,” Sami said, his eyes warm and almost eager, and Kevin wanted it so much and was so weak… He nodded, and Sami beamed at him as though he’d done something incredibly clever.

“Let’s try it with me standing up this week,” Sami said. “If we have to do it on the road, backstage or something, we might not have the luxury of a bed.”

Kevin swallowed hard at the sudden image of the two of them fumbling into a corridor somewhere, Sami sliding down his tights… A rush of dizziness went over him and he covered his mouth as something sharper and more sweet than hunger seemed to shiver through him.

“You don’t have to hide your fangs,” Sami said, laughing as he pulled off his socks. “It’s just the two of us.”

“It’s just really weird,” Kevin said, not moving his hand. “They look stupid. Besides, I’m not going to use them or anything. I don’t know why they keep… you know… fanging.”

Sami kicked his jeans into the corner. Then he took Kevin’s hand in his and gently pulled Kevin’s hand away from his face. “It’s because you instinctively want to bite me,” he said. “You’re a predator. Like, a _real_ apex predator. And I’m your prey.” He looked at Kevin’s mouth, and Kevin resisted the urge to cover his face. “They’re really… cool,” he said. “May I touch them?”

Kevin didn’t want to admit he didn’t think that was a great idea, because he didn’t want to admit just how beautiful Sami’s throat was, and how easy it would be to just-- “Sure, I guess,” he said.

Sami brushed a finger along one fang, and Kevin heard himself make a startled little noise. “Oh, I… I can feel that. They’re really… sensitive,” he managed to say. It was like Sami had put his fingers right on a nerve ending, but it didn’t hurt: it felt like exquisite fire running right into the core of his body.

“I bet you could bite me,” Sami said. He was staring at Kevin’s mouth. “I bet you could control yourself.”

“Let’s not find out,” Kevin stammered.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Sami reached out with his good hand and picked the razor blade off the counter. “Getting bitten?”

“Dunno,” Kevin said.

“But Rougeau…” Sami took Kevin’s hand and tugged him over to the wall, where he leaned against it. “He bit you.”

“He drugged me before he did it,” Kevin said. “I don’t remember anything about it.”

“Bastard,” Sami said softly. 

“That’s for sure,” Kevin said.

“You should try biting me,” Sami said. He leaned his head back against the wall, baring his throat. “Come on, Kev.”

His eyes were half-closed; lounging against the wall in his Rancid t-shirt and boxers, his color high and hectic, he almost looked like he was trying to seduce Kevin. Kevin choked back a laugh at the incongruous thought and tried not to think about pressing his knee between Sami’s pale thighs, the almost-healed cuts livid against the brightness. _I’m your prey._

“Nah, man,” Kevin said instead of any of the dozen things he wanted to say. “I’m not going to bite you.” Then he looked again at the pale lines on Sami’s legs. “Hey,” he said. “Those healed really fast.”

Sami lifted his head from the wall and frowned irritably at Kevin, as though Kevin were trying to change the subject. Then his face cleared as he processed the words. “Yeah, it’s weird,” he said. “They’ve healed up faster than the cuts on my arm, and those are from almost a month ago.” He looked thoughtful. “You licked my leg but not my arm,” he said. “Do you think maybe vampire saliva has some kind of healing ability?” He grinned with the pleasure of someone figuring out a puzzle. “That would actually make a lot of sense and explain why we don’t see any signs of vampires--they’d have a way to hide the wounds they make while feeding and--whoa, what the hell?”

Kevin looked up from where he’d started to pull the neck of Sami’s t-shirt aside. “I’m gonna lick your shoulder,” he said.

“Don’t--” Sami squirmed, giggling slightly, as Kevin tried to get his tongue across Sami’s shoulder. “I don’t think it works that way, Kevin. It’s--” Another fit of laughter as Kevin buried his face in Sami’s shoulder. He smelled good. “It’s only for the _wounds,_ dummy.” A brief silence; Kevin sneaked a look at his face and saw his eyes lighting up. “But if you bite me, maybe that’ll help, huh?” He put his hand on the back of Kevin’s head and nudged his face into Sami’s shoulder more. “Go on. Bite me and maybe I’ll heal up faster.”

It was a terrifyingly reasonable thing to say. Just agree, _yes, this is just to try and heal you faster, to try and bring you back to wrestling,_ not because he wanted it so much he was starting to shake at the thought of it, the chance to feed as he was meant to, as he deserved…

“You said it was just for wounds,” he managed to say through lips gone numb with yearning. “Be consistent, Sami. I’m not biting you.”

“ _Consistent,”_ Sami said, annoyed. ” _Constancy_ is certainly a virtue of mine, huh?” He kicked Kevin’s calf lightly. “If you won’t bite me, then get on your knees, Kev.” He watched, a small smile on his face, as Kevin slowly went to his knees in front of him. Then he held out the razor blade. “You do it,” he said.

Kevin flinched. “What?”

“You cut me. Oh come on,” Sami said at the look on Kevin’s face, “it makes sense. You can tell how much blood you need, so you should do it.” He shook the blade at Kevin impatiently and Kevin reached up and took it without thinking. “Go on.”

Kevin sank down on his heels so he was level with Sami’s thighs. There were little healing lines across one of them. He put the blade to the other one, cold metal against the soft skin of Sami’s inner thigh. He looked at it. Sami was asking Kevin to cut him. To make him bleed.

“Kevin,” said Sami. “I trust you.” He was leaning back against the wall, his legs slightly apart, eyes cast up toward the ceiling.

Kevin drew the blade across Sami’s skin with a hand that barely shook at all, then pulled it back quickly. The cut was so light that each bead of blood was discrete: four of them, scarlet against the pale skin. Kevin swallowed hard, looking at them, then leaned in and touched the tip of his tongue to each one in turn.

Bliss. Infinite and utter bliss. More than he needed, more than he deserved. This would be what redemption tasted like. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Oh, come on,” Kevin looked up to see Sami squinting down at him. “I didn’t even feel that, there couldn’t have been any blood at all. Cut me deeper than that.”

Taking a breath, Kevin drew another line just above the first one, slanting across Sami’s skin. This one was deep enough that a little thread of blood started winding its way down Sami’s leg, and Kevin hurriedly ducked his head to run his tongue up the line of it, feeling the hot energy of it like wine, burning its way into him. Stronger than wine, and sweeter: _I could get drunk on you,_ he’d said to Sami, and he could feel it again, that bright buzzing haziness, the world narrowing down to just the two of them. _Every week, he said we’d do this every week,_ his mind sang, and he felt so shaky that he had to grab Sami’s leg with one hand just to keep himself steady. By the time the cut had stopped bleeding he felt like he could fight Braun Strowman on top of Hell in a Cell, like he could take on Brock Lesnar. His fangs pressed up against Sami’s skin, but he barely even felt the urge to bite him this time, he was so replete. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he breathed without thinking, and heard Sami swallow hard.

“One more,” Sami said. His voice was breathless, as if he’d been running. “One more time. And stop fucking holding back.” He reached down and seized Kevin’s hand, pulling the fingers holding the blade back to his skin, just above the other two cuts. It was almost to the hem of his boxers now, the skin there even paler. “I’m not afraid,” Sami said. He sounded almost angry. “Stop being such a coward.”

He pushed Kevin’s fingers and the blade against his skin, not gently at all, and blood sprang up.

There was a lot of it this time; it cascaded down Sami’s leg too fast for Kevin to catch with his lips, and in a panic he dropped the razor blade and reached out as if he could staunch it with his hands. It spilled over his fingers ( _no, no, Sami’s life, wasted on him_ ) and Kevin leaned in and desperately tried to drink what he could, grabbing at Sami’s legs with his unsteady, bloody hands. It was so much, and it was so good; he heard himself making little sobbing noises and he didn’t even care. _I’m your prey,_ Sami had said, but Kevin didn’t feel like a predator at all, he felt lost in wonder, dazed and stunned. There seemed to be blood everywhere, and Kevin licked and sucked wildly along Sami’s skin, every single inch a new and vibrant discovery. He had his hands on Sami’s thigh, on his knee; he could feel the muscles of Sami’s legs shivering, and he felt a brief pang of guilt for making Sami stand so long, but he couldn’t seem to stop. 

The flood was slowing now. Kevin’s desperate licks slowed with it, until he was just kneeling there, his mouth pressed to Sami’s inner thigh, trembling with overload. Sami tugged at the hem of his shirt, and Kevin could tell from the clumsy little gesture that he had an awkward boner. It had happened the last time, too. Awkward boners were a pretty standard work hazard in wrestling, and Sami obviously hadn’t had a girlfriend in a while. Kevin thought briefly about teasing him about it, but it seemed too much effort, so he just leaned against his leg for a while, breathing in the scent of him, feeling replete and happy.

He finally forced himself to scoot back away from Sami, patting his knee awkwardly as he did. Then he stopped cold at the sight of Sami’s bare legs. They were covered all over with scarlet handprints, painted and daubed with Kevin’s own wet fingers, with the marks of his bloody lips. Shame and horror mingled with a weird thrill in Kevin’s heart at the sight: as if Sami were the canvas and he were the artist, painting in blood and hunger and need. _So beautiful._ “I’m sorry,” he muttered, tearing his eyes away, forcing himself to look up, “I didn’t mean to--”

Sami wasn’t looking at him; he was staring down at his own legs, stained and smeared with his blood on Kevin’s hands and mouth. “I--” he said. His voice died. “I--” He shook his head as if trying to clear it, and finished in a rush, “I’m going to go clean up, okay, I’ll be right back I have to-- I have to--” He stumbled past Kevin. “I have to-- go,” he stammered, scooping up his jeans and disappearing into the guest bathroom. 

Kevin heard the door click locked behind him, and then the sound of water running. 

He sat on the floor, still dazed with gluttony, suffused with satisfaction. He’d never drunk so much at once. _It would be even better straight from the veins,_ the thought came to him, but he pushed it angrily away. What kind of asshole would take all that from a friend and then start thinking about how he wanted even more? He would hate himself for it, but at the moment he was just so content and happy that he couldn’t quite manage it. He felt capable of anything right now. A steel cage match with the Monster Among Men? Bring it. He could do anything at all, with Sami’s strength lighting him up like the sun. Quietly, feeling greedy beyond words, he licked his fingers clean. The energy in the blood was almost gone now, but even the echo was satisfying.

After a while the bathroom door opened and Sami re-appeared in his jeans, looking a little pale and shaken. “Are you okay?” Kevin asked. “It was an awfully deep cut. You shouldn’t do that again, you know.”

“Maybe not,” Sami said. “But I think I’m okay now.” He sat down gingerly on the couch, looking over at Kevin still on the floor. “Was it good?”

“Was it _good?”_ Kevin started to stand up, but was still feeling too relaxed and loose-limbed to bother, so instead he began to crawl over to the couch. “Sami. It was-- I’ve never felt anything like that before. I feel ready for anything.” This burst of artificial courage would probably all be gone by Extreme Rules, he knew. But he’d try to remember it. Sami wanted him to be brave. He’d try.

He made it to the couch and sat down on the floor with his back against it, next to Sami’s legs. He laughed softly, still half-drunk with delight. “I know it doesn’t look it, but I feel so fucking _strong_ right now,” he said.

Sami put a hand on his head and ran his fingers absently through his hair, and Kevin sighed and leaned into Sami’s leg without thinking.

“Me too,” Sami said. “God, Kev. Me too.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sami is back from injury and he and Kevin are going for the tag team titles. Sami's hoping to go for something a little more than that, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time skip into fantasy booking time! We're jumping ahead into the future, where I can write all the indulgent tag teaming I like.

**The Future: Royal Rumble 2019**

The ring was full of wrestlers and Kevin Owens was in trouble. He’d come in at four and lasted until twenty-five, but now Akam--half of the current tag team champions, the Authors of Pain--had him halfway over the ropes. He clung like a koala, wrapping his arms and legs around the rope desperately as the clock ticked down, the yelled numbers barely audible through the ringing of blood in his ears. _Just hold on…_

The buzzer rang and that familiar stupid beloved music rang out for the first time in seven months. Still clinging to the rope, Kevin saw the audience jumping to their feet, beaming, and he felt a sharp stab of delight: _That’s right, he’s back even though you don’t deserve him._ Then something heavy slammed into Akam, tearing him away from Kevin, and Kevin uncurled and jumped to his feet to find Sami there, his arms swinging wildly, battering at the gigantic champion. Kevin leaped forward to help him, and with a titanic effort they heaved Akam over the ropes and sent him crashing to the floor below. 

Sami and Kevin looked at each other, and everyone in the Phoenix arena froze: with anticipation, with dread, with any variety of emotions. The only people who didn’t seem uncertain were Sami and Kevin themselves: Kevin threw his arms wide and Sami hurled himself into them for a huge hug.

“Thank you for saving me,” Kevin mumbled into Sami’s coppery curls.

“You could have handled Akam,” Sami laughed.

“I didn’t mean now,” said Kevin, and Sami pulled back, the laughter fading into a much sweeter smile. He started to say something and then cut off as Braun Strowman came barrelling at them. They both dodged, as easy as dancing, then Kevin superkicked him as Sami gave him a big boot, and they managed to send him tumbling over the ropes as well.

Kevin stared down at Strowman sitting on the floor, glaring up at them, the bane of his existence for so long, defeated now because Sami was back, Sami was with him. He couldn’t resist: he flipped a middle finger at the Monster Among Men and then started laughing as he caught a glimpse of Sami doing the same thing out of the corner of his eye. Nothing could stop them now, he thought, and the joy of that thought was still sinking into his bones when he felt strong hands seize him and and throw him over the ropes, the arena spinning around him.

Now it was his turn to look up into the furious eyes of Rezar, the other half of the Authors of Pain, who had just thrown him out of the Royal Rumble and cost him his chance to main event WrestleMania. He punched the mat angrily, then heaved himself to his feet. Sami was closing with Cesaro and he wanted to watch, because that matchup was _always_ amazing, but the ref was waving him off. He trudged to the back, the crowd booing at him, but it was the oddest thing: with every step, his heart felt lighter as he remembered that Sami was back.

Sami was back, Sami was back, Sami was back. It was like his heart was singing a tune, something annoying and peppy and impossible to forget.

Sami was back.

* * *

The ring was being taken down. The confetti was being cleaned up. And Sami and Kevin were facing Kurt Angle in his office.

Kurt pinched his nose with a long-suffering look. “Okay, boys,” he sighed. “I get it. I know who you’re going after next.”

“Good,” Kevin said. Next to him, Sami crossed his arms and nodded.

“And Strowman’s pretty mad, he wants his revenge, so I guess I’ve got no choice but to--”

“--We’re not interested in Strowman,” Sami said, and Kevin felt a thrill of delight go through him. They hadn’t even talked about this. They hadn’t needed to talk about this. “We eliminated him, we’re done with him.”

Kurt looked from Sami to Kevin, puzzled. “So wait… you said you wanted me to make a match.”

Kevin pointed at the general manager. “We want a match with the Authors of Pain. For the tag titles.”

Sami clasped his shoulder and together they grinned at Kurt.

* * *

“He looks good, doesn’t he?” 

Elias looked up from his guitar and followed Sami’s gaze to where Kevin was sitting and looking at his phone. “Owens? Uh, sure, I guess,” he said.

“He looks energized. Full of life.” Six months with a regular supply of blood would probably do that, Sami figured. He’d lived up to his promise: every time he and Kevin were in the same place, he’d made sure Kevin had drunk at least a little of his blood. Kevin had protested that he didn’t need _that_ much, but Sami had insisted. Sami’s thighs bore a latticework of little white scars now.

He ran his fingers across them, sometimes, the delicate filigree like lace under his touch. Sometimes he did it while he jerked off, imagining that Kevin was there, his mouth on him. If not for the injury, being unable to wrestle, the last six months would have been some of the happiest of his life. 

And now he was back and able to wrestle, now he and Kevin were a _team,_ and things were even better.

“He looks fantastic,” Sami said without thinking, and Elias laughed a little and picked out the opening chords of “Crazy,” but Sami had no problem with Patsy Cline as an anthem right now. Kevin stood up and came over, bouncing on the balls of his feet, and Sami beamed at him.

“Have you got this?” Kevin asked. “I mean, your first singles match back and all.”

“Will you be there?”

“If you’re fighting Akam, someone’s got to keep an eye on Rezar,” Kevin said.

“Then I got this,” Sami said, standing up and dusting off his hands. He met Kevin’s eyes. “We got this.”

* * *

As it turned out, they didn’t exactly “have this.”

Akam slammed Sami’s face into the turnbuckle and Sami reeled, staggering. He could hear Kevin yelling somewhere nearby, calling his name, and he wanted to help him, but Akam lifted him up and slammed him into the mat and pinned him, and he was so fucking _heavy,_ and Sami couldn’t even move. The hot taste of blood was in his mouth--he must have gotten cut somewhere, bit the inside of his cheek--and the bell rang and the match was over.

“Sami.” Kevin’s voice, full of shock. Kevin hovering over him, helping him out of the ring. Sami caught a glimpse of his face and almost laughed at how worried he looked, then clamped his jaws shut. “Are you okay?”

Sami nodded as Kevin propped him up, the two of them staggering toward the back. There was a fresh bruise starting to form on Kevin’s cheek, and Sami felt anger in the pit of his stomach, that anyone would dare to hurt his partner, his Kevin. He nodded again.

“Say something, Sami,” Kevin said.

Sami shook his head. He grabbed Kevin’s arm and hustled them up the ramp and through Gorilla, brushing past Finn and Corbin and everyone.

“Sami?” Kevin sounded worried as Sami dragged him through the corridors until-- _there,_ a supply closet. 

Sami wrenched the door open and pulled Kevin inside. Then he pointed at his mouth.

“Are you okay?” Kevin said. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m bleeding,” Sami mumbled. “I cut my mouth.”

Then he waited, tasting blood, watching Kevin’s face.

“Oh,” Kevin said. A complicated mix of hunger and fear and something that looked almost like hope went across his face. “And you want me to--”

Sami nodded. When Kevin still hesitated, he put a finger in his mouth, then touched it to Kevin’s lower lip.

“Ah,” Kevin murmured, leaning forward to slip Sami’s finger between his lips. Sami could see the fangs glint at the taste, and felt again the sharp irrational stab of wild desire to have them in his skin. 

He tapped his own lower lip. “More,” he said. “C’mere.”

Kevin stepped forward, disbelief and need in his eyes. He leaned in and put his mouth to Sami’s, and at the touch of their lips Sami felt him take a startled breath and freeze. Sami touched his bloody tongue to Kevin’s closed lips, and Kevin sighed and opened his mouth to it. Sami felt wet warmth, felt a dizzying flush go over him, and when he drew his tongue back Kevin followed him as if he couldn’t help it, licking at Sami’s teeth and tongue and the inside of his mouth with messy, greedy motions. It was obscene and divine and Sami felt his knees going weak as Kevin whispered something that sounded like _heaven_ into his mouth over and over, his gasps of delight dragging at Sami’s bloody breath.

Things slowed down as the taste of blood faded from Sami’s mouth, but Kevin didn’t pull back. He nibbled on Sami’s lower lip, and Sami could feel curving teeth touching him. He wasn’t sure he could stay standing much longer, so he wrapped his arms around Kevin, exploring his mouth gently, touching his tongue to the fangs, savoring the little noises that Kevin made.

When Kevin did finally stop, he pulled back only far enough to bury his face in Sami’s shoulder. Sami felt lips on his neck and his whole body thrilled with fear and craving, but instead of biting him Kevin mumbled, “That… that was a kiss, wasn’t it?”

His voice sounded tentative, and Sami almost wanted to laugh. “Yeah,” he said instead. “That was a kiss. I mean, if you want it to be.”

A short silence, in which Sami felt his heart plummet slightly. And then Kevin whispered “I do,” like a vow or an oath, and put his mouth to his again.

* * *

Sami was lying on the hotel room bed in his underwear, his curls copper and gold against the pillow, smiling at Kevin. “Suppertime,” he said, twirling the little razor blade in his fingers.

They’d kissed. They’d kissed and somehow the world was still the same place, somehow nothing was different at all except that Sami enjoyed kissing him and… Kevin’s mind went oddly blank as he stared at Sami half-naked on the pure white sheets. What else would Sami maybe enjoy doing with him? He eased himself onto the bed. “Not much tonight,” he said, and there was a tremor in his voice that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. “It’s… I’m not sure I could handle it.”

Sami laughed, a little wryly. “I know what you mean,” he said. There was a tight, hot undertone to his voice that made Kevin feel a little dizzy. He traced a little curve on his thigh with a sure hand, and Kevin realized the line was half of a heart, drawn in scarlet against Sami’s skin.

“Sami,” he said helplessly, caught in wonder, and lay down across Sami’s leg to put his mouth to the bright blood there.

Sami groaned at the touch of his lips, a sound so frankly erotic that Kevin felt his whole body respond in ways he’d taught himself to ignore for years. “God, Kevin, I don’t have to keep quiet anymore,” he said. “I can tell you how good--” His voice broke off as Kevin traced the curve with his tongue. “It’s so good, Kevin.” He was panting a little. Kevin’s mouth was making him do that. “I want to-- Kevin, please, I want to touch myself while you do that.”

“Oh fuck, _please,_ ” Kevin mumbled against his skin, and he felt Sami fumbling at his underwear, shoving his hand into his boxers, grabbing at himself desperately. Kevin gave up any pretense at being delicate and started licking at Sami’s skin roughly, Sami matching him stroke for stroke, his whole body tense and straining.

“You taste even better now,” Kevin said in amazement. “You taste like sex.” Like sex and heaven mixed together, sacred and profane and completely bewitching.

“Kevin, _please,_ ” Sami gasped. His back was arched, his thighs tight. “Please--I want--”

“Anything,” Kevin said. “Anything for you, Sami.”

“I want you to bite me,” Sami said. Kevin froze as Sami babbled on, “I want it so much, I want to know what it feels like, I want your teeth in me, Kevin, anywhere--my neck, my legs, anywhere-- _please._ ” 

Kevin pulled back and stared at him. Sami’s eyes were closed, his body pale and golden-copper, a hectic aroused flush on his face and chest. He was straining against his own touch, clearly struggling to go slow. He wanted Kevin to bite him. He wanted Kevin to just lean forward and put his teeth into him and drink--

His fangs _hurt,_ they ached so much, and Sami was _begging_ him for it. Just one sip, just the tiniest sweetest sip of the blood right from Sami’s arteries, his for the taking at last. Hadn’t he been a good friend? Didn’t he deserve this?

Kevin knew the answer to that.

Carefully, he laid down next to Sami and kissed his shoulder, his collarbone, the frantic fluttering pulse in his neck. Sami groaned and his hand slowed even more. “Do it,” he whispered. “Hurry. I can’t wait much longer and I want--I want to finish while you feed.” He was so beautiful, so beautiful, Kevin wanted to die with how beautiful and stupid and self-sacrificing he was.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin mumbled against his skin. “I can’t.”

Sami made a sharp, frustrated sound. “God damn it,” he said. Kevin could feel his tempo pick up, his body shaking with lust and ire. “I _need_ it, Kev. You have no idea how much--how much I think about it. Every time. Every time your mouth is on me. Every time.” His voice was tight, his breathing ragged. “Fuck. I _need_ you, Kev.”

“I love you,” Kevin said, and Sami sobbed, arching his back, pushing against Kevin. “I love you and I want you and I’m not-- I’m not strong enough, Sami.” He kissed along the curve of Sami’s throat. “Please don’t stop,” he whispered against Sami’s skin. He put his hand on Sami’s bare chest and Sami grabbed it with his free hand, his grip almost painful. “I want you to-- I want you to finish.”

Breath hissed between Sami’s teeth. His eyes were squeezed shut. “Say that again,” he said. “What you said.”

“I want you to finish?”

“Before that.” Sami groaned and twisted into his own grip. His words were chopped-off and tight, as if he could barely speak. “What you said.”

Kevin thought about it for a moment. “I love you?” he ventured.

Sami made a sharp little noise of assent.

Kevin put his mouth to Sami’s throat, feeling the life beating there. “I love you,” he said again, and Sami tensed all over with a gasp beneath his touch, making little broken sounds until he went limp, the lines of tension in his face smoothing over once more.

For a little while the room was silent except for Sami’s slowing breaths. Then Sami said, “We have to talk to Rougeau.”

” _What?_ No,” Kevin said. “No no no, I’ve never spoken to him since I broke our bond and I don’t want to, I don’t need to.”

“We need to know how this works,” Sami said. He was looking at the ceiling, not at Kevin. “We need to know if you can feed without killing or turning someone. If I’m going to share this life with you, I need to know its parameters.” 

“Not Rougeau,” said Kevin, feeling something like panic rattling below his breastbone. _He’ll find a way to get me back, he’ll bind me, I’ll lose you._ “Promise me, Sami. Not him.”

Sami turned his gaze to him and looked at him for a long time with that assessing look Sami sometimes got, as if he were staring past everything right into your soul. Kevin used to hate that look. After a little bit, Sami nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I promise. Not Rougeau.”

Kevin went limp with relief, sagging against him. 

“But I’m going to share this life with you,” Sami said, as if he were making a terrible threat. “You’re not going to stop me or drive me away. Not ever.”

Kevin nodded wordlessly, and Sami put his arms around him and held him for a long moment. Then Kevin felt him laugh softly. 

“What?” Kevin muttered, feeling defensive.

“Well,” said Sami. “If you won’t use your mouth on me…” 

He flipped Kevin over onto his back, and Kevin could see his eyes had gone mischievous and pleased with himself.

“...I can at least use my mouth on you,” Sami said, and proceeded, to Kevin’s startled rapture, to demonstrate some of the ways that might work.

* * *

“That’s an… interesting request,” the figure in the shadows said. There was a manic chuckle lurking just below his words. “Why do you think I’d know the location of such an… expert?”

Sami cleared his throat. “Come on,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel. “You know all about that stuff.”

“And you’ve come to me without your tag partner. Also interesting.” Bray Wyatt emerged from the shadows, smiling, his eyes dark. “You’ll never beat the Authors of Pain as you are now, you know--half-bonded and half-free. I don’t know which you want to be, but you must be fully one or the other.”

“Look, do you know where I can find someone like that or not?” Sami knew his voice sounded brusque, but mostly he just wanted to get the hell away from Wyatt.

Wyatt laughed and held up a small oblong of cream-colored paper that seemed to materialize out of the air. “As it so happens, I do,” he said, holding the business card out toward Sami.

“A blank piece of paper, very funny,” said Sami, picking it out of his fingers--then almost dropped it as letters slowly materialized; scarlet letters, as if written in blood, spelling out a name and address.

“It will seem blank to anyone but you,” chortled Wyatt. “Good luck on your quest.”

“Yeah, thanks,” muttered Sami, but Wyatt had already disappeared into the shadows.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sami follows Bray Wyatt's lead to talk to a vampire expert. He learns a lot, and goes home to Kevin to put it into practice.

“I should have come with you.” 

Kevin’s voice in the phone speaker was tinny and odd. Sami frowned as he negotiated the cracked and uneven sidewalk. “I’m not risking it. What if he stakes you or something? Throws holy water at you? It’s dangerous.”

“I don’t believe a vampire expert lives in Toledo, Ohio. Wyatt’s sent you on a wild goose chase.”

Sami pulled the business card out of his pocket and checked the glistening red letters that spelled out a street address. Just a few blocks to go. “I have to give it a try.”

“No you don’t. Come back to me. You’re wasting one of our days off. A day we could spend doing things that are a lot more fun and a lot less risky.”

Sami almost laughed. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is it working?”

“No.”

“Then no,” huffed Kevin. 

Sami stopped in front of a perfectly ordinary white clapboard house, the last in a long row of near-identical houses. There was a birdhouse made of popsicle sticks hanging from a tree out front, a flowerpot with frozen, broken geranium stems in it. “Kev, our title match is in five days. The Authors of Pain have mopped the floor with us at every turn. We need an edge.”

“I’ll turn into a bat in the middle of a pin. That’ll throw them off.”

Another laugh threatened to get past Sami’s On a Mission seriousness. “We need to figure out how this works. How long can you go without blood before it becomes dangerous? Is there any kind of substitute?”

“I can go about ten months before it becomes really bad,” Kevin said. “We _know_ this. We don’t need any silly expert.”

Sami remembered how pale and miserable Kevin had looked after ten months without feeding, as if he were wasting away. There was so much they didn’t know. He rested his hand on the gate of the low chain-link fence. “I’m heading in. I’m going to leave the phone on. Don’t say anything, just listen.”

He stuffed the phone into his pocket and opened the gate, then marched up to the door and pressed the doorbell.

The person who opened the door was a perfectly ordinary-looking guy, his dirty-blond hair in a messy bun, wearing an Against Me! t-shirt. Sami found himself inclined to like him, but maybe it was just the shirt. “Good afternoon,” Sami said. “Are you, uh, Repentance Edwards?”

“That’s me,” said the supposed supernatural expert.

“I was sent here by a friend,” Sami said, and held up the card Bray had given him. “I was hoping you could help me, Mr. Edwards.”

The man smiled. “Hey, man, Mr. Edwards is my father. And my grandfather, and so on back to the Enlightenment or so. Just call me Repentance.” He put out his hand.

“Uh, sure… Repentance,” Sami said, shaking it.

“It’s kind of an off-putting name, I know,” Repentance said, opening the screen door so Sami could come in. “Family tradition. Long line of Puritans. Could be worse--my grandfather’s name was Fight-the-good-fight-of-faith Edwards.”

“I kind of like that one,” said Sami, stepping into an extremely mundane living room. There were crocheted afghans tossed onto the couch, and a black cat was sunning itself on one. It blinked golden eyes sleepily at him, and Sami almost wished Kevin were here instead of listening nervously a thousand miles away. There was little better in the world than getting to watch Kevin meet a new cat.

“So someone thought I could help you with a… specialized problem?”

“It’s about a, uh.” Sami had a hard time getting the word out: he’d never spoken about it with anyone but Kevin, nowhere outside their little charmed circle of life. “It’s about a vampire.”

Repentance scratched the cat between the ears and it gazed up at him adoringly. “Tell me more,” he said, his voice neutral.

Sami was painfully aware of Kevin listening in. “Well, he’s… he’s a friend of mine, actually. He’s been a vampire for about seventeen years. Uh, he got turned when he was seventeen. But we don’t know much about how the whole vampire thing works, because he broke his bond to his sire and--”

“--Okay, you can stop there,” said Repentance briskly. He straightened up and started to walk to the door. “Don’t waste my time with fiction.”

“What?” said Sami.

“You have no _vampire friend,_ ” Repentance said, making contemptuous air quotes. “Or you’d know perfectly well that there is no breaking a sire-bond. They’re _permanent._ ”

Sami blinked at him. “But… he did.”

“Pfft. Vampires are irrevocably bound to the vampire that created them,” Repentance said. “That bond cannot be destroyed or defied. I’ve seen vampires try. _No_ vampire has the strength to break such a bond.” He took in Sami’s confused face and went on as if explaining to a child: “A vampire is physically incapable of being more than a hundred miles from their sire. That’s how strong the bond is.”

“ _My_ vampire--” Sami heard the fierce pride in the pronoun and didn’t care who else heard it, “--has been thousands of miles away from his sire. Regularly.”

Repentance and the black cat both gave him unimpressed looks. “You don’t say. So if he’s so tough and inventive, how does he deal with the sunlight problem?”

“Sunlight _isn’t_ a problem.” Sami could see the trap being set and he refused to fall into it. “He says that sunlight is fine, that holy symbols do give him trouble, that silver is uncomfortable but he can bear it. He can cross running water, his reflection shows in a mirror, he doesn’t have to sleep in a coffin, he can turn into a very cute bat, but he can’t turn into mist. There,” he said, wrapping up, “does that match your knowledge of vampires?”

Repentance’s eyes were wary. “It...does,” he said. “But if your friend broke that bond, he’s unheard-of. I’d like to know what gave him the strength.”

_His love of wrestling,_ Sami wanted to say, but he thought that might sound silly. “He’s just that good,” he said instead. “Anyway, we don’t know much about how the whole vampire thing works because of that, and we need to. Is there any substitute for, you know… human blood?“

Repentance shook his head. “It has to be human, and it has to be fresh.”

“He says once it’s been exposed to air for more than a few seconds, it’s no good.”

Repentance nodded, and Sami thought he saw the beginnings of a reluctant acceptance in his eyes.

“He can go seven or eight months without blood, but--” Sami had shaved a couple of months off Kevin’s estimate, but Repentance’s expression still made him stop. “Is that… not typical?“

“Buddy, if your vampire friend can go more than a month or two without fresh blood, he’s literally the toughest vampire I’ve ever heard of,” Repentance said. “I’ve never encountered a vampire with the willpower to abstain from blood for more than a couple of months, the craving is just too strong.” He gave Sami a narrow look. “Your friend is... unusual.”

Sami felt a sudden odd rush of utter pride well up in him. “My friend is fucking _spectacular,_ ,” he announced. “He’s the bravest, strongest, most self-sacrificing person I know, and I love him with all my heart.” He heard a small sound, almost a sob, from the phone tucked in his pocket, and he wanted to pull it out, to yell praise into it until Kevin would finally _listen._ “Tell me more, I need to know everything about how vampires work, Repentance. Tell me everything.”

* * *

“...and you’re telling me he’s never bitten anyone.’

“That’s what he says.” Sami looked down at the page full of scribbled notes about mistletoe and full moons and silver alloys and blood types.

“Not one person, ever. In seventeen years.”

Sami was getting a little embarrassed with how incredulous Repentance was. “Yeah, he’s a vampire virgin. Look, he didn’t know if it would kill someone or not, and he didn’t want to risk it.” He cast the vampire hunter a sideways look. “So… _is_ there a way to bite someone without killing them?”

He had tried to keep his voice casual, but the look Repentance gave him indicated he wasn’t at all fooled. “Actually, yes, there is. As a matter of fact, it’s common for vampires to form close relationships with single Sources--that’s what they call them--and maintain them for years. Sometimes their whole lives.” Sami looked back down at his notes and bit his lip, glad that Kevin wasn’t there to see his expression, as Repentance went on: “It just requires enough self-control not to drain the victim to the point of death. Vampires say they have an innate sense of these things. And if your friend’s willpower is as spectacular as you claim, he should have no problem with that.”

“Does it... “ Sami swallowed. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Repentance grimaced thoughtfully. “It varies from Source to Source, and vampire to vampire. For some, yeah, it hurts. For others, it’s…” Repentance paused. “Let’s say it’s not that unpleasant an experience.”

Sami felt a sudden urge to pull his phone out of his pocket and see if the battery was still going, if Kevin was still listening in. Maybe to hang up entirely. But he forged ahead: “Is it really weird to… want to be bitten? Like, to think about it a lot? Um, all the time? To dream about it?”

Repentance’s smile warmed his solemn face. “It’s unusual. But it’s also not necessarily a bad thing.” He nodded. “I think you’ll be a fine Source. You can tell your friend that.” 

Once he was away from the house, Sami pulled his phone out of his pocket. The battery was almost dead, but the call was still live. “Did you understand all that?” he said into it.

There was a long pause. “Yeah,” said Kevin’s voice.

“I mean, did you _understand_ all that? About what you are?”

Sami could hear Kevin clear his throat. “Yeah,” he said, a little hoarsely. “I guess so.”

“I’m going to be a fine Source,” said Sami.

“Yes,” said Kevin. His voice was shaking. “Okay. Yes. Yes.”

“And in five days, we’re going to be tag team champs.”

“Of course we are.”

“I’m coming home to you now,” Sami said. 

“Please,” whispered Kevin. “Please come home to me.”

“Wait for me.”

“Of course.”

Sami hung up the phone and broke into a trot across the broken sidewalk toward the bus stop. If he could catch a standby flight, he could be back home in six or seven hours. 

Home, where Kevin was waiting with his warm eyes and strong hands and bright teeth.

Sami felt the blood rioting in his veins as he dashed for the bus.

* * *

The sun was setting, sending a flood of late-afternoon light across the floor, and Kevin was waiting for Sami. He’d texted from the airport that he’d be home soon, and now Kevin was waiting. He should do something, he should keep busy: water the plants, do the laundry, answer some mail. But all he seemed able to do was to sit and watch the shadows lengthen and know that every moment Sami was getting closer, hurrying back to him. His Source. He was going to bare that perfect neck and Kevin was going to sink his teeth into him--he knew the exact spot already, that patch of skin between the three small freckles and the tiny crescent scar--and drink his fill of that glorious life, the Source of everything good.

He should get up, he should wash the lonely glass in the sink, he should do some pushups, he should feed the fish. Instead, he sat as if in a trance, lost in a strangely gentle haze of bloodlust. Waiting.

He only broke out of the daze when he heard the car door slam outside and footsteps coming fast toward the house. He was on his feet as Sami threw open the door; by the time it slammed shut Sami was in his arms and Kevin was kissing him hungrily, so hungrily. For the first time in his life he didn’t push that hunger down, he let himself feel it, a hot burn of need that was going to be satisfied at last.

Sami kept pulling back and staring at Kevin, then lurching in and kissing him again: messy gasping kisses, as though he had run all the way from the airport and couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “You’ve been starving,” he mumbled between kisses. “God, Kevin, you’ve been starving yourself for years. Not anymore. Never again.”

Kevin kissed that spot on his neck, there between the freckles and the scar, and Sami shuddered all over and pulled his head closer. “Now,” he said. “I can’t wait any longer, Kevin. You’ve made me wait too long already.”

He sounded--unbelievably--like he meant it, like he’d been hungering for Kevin’s teeth as much as Kevin had been yearning for Sami’s blood. Kevin remembered the sound of his voice as he had asked Repentance if it was normal to think about it all the time. To dream of it. “Let’s-- bed,” Kevin managed shakily. “I want to lie down.”

They stumbled, unable to stop kissing, into the bedroom and tumbled onto the bed together in an urgent heap. Sami yanked off his t-shirt and hurled it across the room as if it annoyed him. “Okay,” he said breathlessly. “Okay.” He tossed his head back on the pillow, exposing his throat. “I’m ready.”

Kevin lay down next to him on his side, one leg draped over Sami’s hips. He nuzzled at Sami’s neck, letting his fangs trail along Sami’s skin, ignoring the clamoring need to _bite bite feed finally all mine._ “You’re going to have to tell me if it hurts too much,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to talk, so… you have to tell me how it is. Keep talking to me. If you tell me to stop, or if you stop talking, I’ll stop.”

“Right right right,” Sami said impatiently. “Safe sane and consensual vampirism, got it got it. For fuck’s sake come _on_ , Kev.”

Kevin let out a long breath against Sami’s neck, like the exhale before a moonsault. Then he pressed his teeth against Sami’s skin, lightly at first, then increasing the pressure until he felt the skin give way, felt his fangs sink in.

He heard himself moan slightly with delight as blood welled into his mouth, impossibly strong, overwhelming. His senses swam with rapture as Sami’s bright life--so much better than he had ever imagined, better than Paradise--trickled down his throat and filled him with ecstasy.

“Ah,” Sami said, and Kevin slowed down the flow--he just knew how, it was like instinct--at the shiver in his voice. “It… it hurts a little. But don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop, Kev.” Kevin slowed down further, until he could seem to taste each discrete drop like liquid light. “I want your teeth in me,” Sami said. “I don’t care if it hurts. I don’t… I don’t care.” 

His voice was oddly dreamy, drifting. Kevin sighed against his skin and Sami shuddered. “It’s… it’s not bad,” he said. He was silent for a moment, so long that Kevin almost stopped, and then he said, “It’s… ah. It feels…”

For a long moment they just lay there together, Kevin dizzy with joy and delight, tasting him, drinking him in.

“It’s good,” Sami whispered. “It’s--” His voice caught. “It’s so good.”

He arched his hips and Kevin realized that Sami was _getting hard,_ pushing up against his knee, shivering. Without thinking, Kevin pressed him back down on the bed with his leg, and Sami made a wild incoherent noise at the pressure.

“Oh Kevin oh Kevin oh Kevin,” he babbled, “you don’t know, you can’t know, it hurts, it’s so good, please take more, _please._ ”

His voice was bright and high as a shooting star press, and Kevin was hard as fuck too at the sound of it, at the taste of him. He resisted the desperate urge to rut against Sami’s body, suddenly terrified that if he came with his fangs in Sami he might lose all control. _Slow… slow… just a little more…_ He sank his teeth in deeper, and Sami made a breathy sound of rapture edged with pain.

“Don’t stop,” Sami begged--he was begging Kevin not to stop, he was _begging_ \--”Please don’t stop, it’s--” He pushed hard against Kevin’s pinioning leg and his voice dropped abruptly into an almost surprised growl: “I’m gonna--oh, Kev--”

His blood _tasted_ different as he came, hotter and sharper, a burst of incandescent energy better than any orgasm Kevin had ever had. Kevin swallowed sweetness and listened to Sami’s panting gasps of ecstasy and knew, he _knew_ , that they were unstoppable. The future unfolded in front of him, rich with blood and gold and glory, and none of them were as intoxicating as the sound of Sami’s pleasure.

Sami sagged back down, his body going so utterly limp that Kevin would have panicked if he couldn’t feel the pulse hammering against his lips. He eased his fangs out of Sami’s skin, licking at the last smudges of blood on his neck. Sami giggled at the touch of his tongue, squirming a little. “I feel so good,” he mumbled. Kevin had never seen Sami drunk, but that was almost what he looked like. 

“Did you--” He still couldn’t quite believe it. “Did you come from that? From me biting you?”

“Mm-hm.” Sami looked almost smug.

“Didn’t it hurt?”

Sami smiled lazily at him. “I’ll explain it to you sometime. How about you? You didn’t come.” He looked faintly disappointed at that.

Kevin stared at his half-closed eyes, the giddy smile on his lips. He felt… replete. Strong. Filled with a bright thrumming energy, bursting with potential. “I don’t need to,” he said. “That was… It was everything,” he finally said. It felt inadequate.

Sami squirmed out of his pants and underwear, tossing them away. He reached up and gathered Kevin close, kissing him. Kevin almost winced, knowing Sami’s blood was still on his lips, but Sami didn’t seem to care. He pulled Kevin down beside him and flung a long leg bare leg over him, intertwining their bodies. “Next time,” he said, “I want to fuck you while you’re biting me.”

“Oh,” Kevin managed through a sudden sharp pang of craving that seemed to be in his teeth and his gut at the same time. They’d never-- 

“I want to be inside you while you’re inside me,” Sami said, nuzzling against his neck.

“Oh,” Kevin said again, feeling dazed with desire. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

He could feel Sami smile against his skin.

“But first,” Sami said, “we’re going to beat the crap out of the Authors of Pain and become tag team champions.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin and Sami's tag title match against the Authors of Pain, and the aftermath.

“Do you think it’s because I’m vegan?”

“Huh?” Kevin rolled over, half-awake, to find Sami staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully. At the motion Sami turned his head to smile at him, and Kevin felt his heart turn over exactly as it had every single time since they first met.

“Maybe you find my blood so delicious because I’m vegan,” Sami said. “It would make sense, right? My blood’s free of cruelty, so it tastes better.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Kevin mumbled, draping himself across Sami with a sigh of contentment. “I think you’d be delicious no matter what.” Though _blood free of cruelty_ sounded like a good description of Sami. Fierceness, yes. Viciousness, even. But not cruelty. He kissed Sami behind the ear and Sami shivered. “How do you feel after… you know, after… last night?”

“You mean after you sucked my blood and gave me a mind-dissolving orgasm?” 

Kevin felt his face reddening. “Yeah,” he said.

Sami’s eyes went distant in that way that Kevin knew well, the look of a wrestler running a quick self-diagnostic of their condition. “I feel _awesome,”_ he said at last, his gaze re-focusing on Kevin.

“Really?”

Sami nodded. “I feel fantastic. I could take on the world.” He jumped out of bed and did some quick push-ups; considering he was wearing only a t-shirt, Kevin found the resulting view very enjoyable. “Seriously, I haven’t had this much energy in _years._ I guess vampire spit really does have healing properties.” He rolled over and did a kip-up with a spring that Kevin hadn’t seen since IWS. “How about you?”

“I feel…” Kevin thought about it. “I feel… _right._ ” He and his Source, ready to knock down anyone who stood against them. “I hadn’t known…”

His voice trailed off, and Sami sat down on the bed, leaning over to kiss the top of his head. “You hadn’t known how hungry you were until you weren’t anymore.”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “I can’t even describe it.”

“We’re going to beat the Authors of Pain on Sunday,” said Sami. It was a simple statement of fact.

“Let’s see if you really are at a hundred percent after being bitten,” Kevin said. “We’re going to the Performance Center and we’re both checking our stamina and stuff.”

“I’m at a hundred and _twenty_ percent,” Sami said, grinning.

“It’s not possible to be at more than a hundred percent.”

“It is with us,” Sami said simply.

* * *

Sami dropped the ropes and flexed his arms at Kevin. “See? Told you.”

It was kind of bravado, actually. He didn’t feel superhuman, or even stronger than he ever had, really. But he felt… Sami groped for the words. He felt like he was the best _him_ he had ever been: at the height of his powers, back before the injuries became chronic.

“We’re still not stronger than Akam and Rezar,” Kevin said a bit glumly, kicking the tire he’d been flipping.

“But we’re more clever,” Sami said. “We’re more experienced. And most importantly, we’re more _us._ ”

He saw Kevin smile even though he was still staring down at the tire. “We’re probably more _us_ than anyone else in the world,” Kevin said with a teasing edge to his voice.

“I’m 98.5% sure of it.”

“You’re very into the made-up statistics today,” Kevin noted. “Have you got any others?”

Sami looked around the weight room. No one seemed to be paying a lot of attention to them. He leaned close to Kevin and said in his ear, “The orgasms on the night of a title win are estimated to be two hundred fifty three percent more intense than other orgasms.”

Kevin ducked his head, blushing--he was usually so shameless; talking about sex in public was the only reliable way to actually embarrass him. Sami had always taken a somewhat guilty pleasure in tweaking him about it, but it was even more enjoyable now that he actually knew what Kevin’s face looked like as he came, knew the sounds he made. “You know that from personal experience?” Kevin said, lifting his chin although his face was still red, and Sami also couldn’t help but enjoy the touch of jealousy in his eyes. _Bad Sami._ But he couldn’t resist...

“Oh yeah,” Sami said blithely. “That last PWG title, the one I won off you--that night was _earth-shattering._ ”

“That’s cool,” Kevin muttered, and Sami could see him mentally going down the card, trying to remember who else had been in Reseda that night. _Adam Cole? Ricochet? Surely not Perkins._ “I mean, I’m…” His voice hitched suddenly, “I’m glad someone was there to take care of you and patch you up after that match. We… went through a lot of ladders, didn’t we? I remember your back got all cut up.” He laughed, but the sound was oddly hollow, and Sami could see the memory of violence behind his eyes. “I’m glad you weren’t alone.” 

He sounded like he meant it, and Sami’s breath caught in sudden pain. “It was one of the best orgasms of my life,” he said.

Kevin nodded miserably, staring down at his feet. 

“I thought of you the whole time I was jerking off,” Sami added. “That might have been it.”

Kevin’s eyes jolted to him, then away. “Sami,” he said.

Sami reached out and touched his elbow, feeling the way Kevin yearned toward him at the touch. He always had, Sami just hadn’t let himself see it. They had always leaned into each other, whether to lift each other up or try and punch each other down. They always would.

“Hey,” Sami said. “Non-title-win orgasms are pretty good, too.”

Kevin looked at him.

“Let’s go home,” Sami said.

“Okay,” said Kevin, his whole body tense with longing for him, his face bright with it. Sami felt like they were screaming their emotions to the entire Performance Center, but nobody was even looking at them. Not even looking at the best tag team in the world! How could people be so ignorant, Sami thought, but it was with a grin. Let them underestimate us. Those titles will be ours soon enough.

* * *

The crowd was screaming with delight, sound pouring down on them from all sides as Kevin faced down Rezar in the middle of the ring. Sami could feel the bright weight of the tag titles on the sidelines, like twin suns, as Kevin dodged Rezar’s swung fist and danced out of the way tauntingly. Everything felt luminous and hazy, yet somehow sharp-edged as crystal. They’d failed to win the world championship together, but they weren’t going to fail this time.

Rezar lurched forward mid-taunt and caught Kevin with a lariat, and Sami had to hold himself back from leaping into the ring and hurling himself at Rezar: _how dare you touch him._ But satisfying as it might be, they weren’t going to win the titles if he got them disqualified, so he forced himself to stay on the apron, clinging to the tag rope as if it were holding him in place.

Kevin struggled to his knees, reaching out to make the tag. Their hands touched, and Sami came in to face the hulking tag champion. He was big, but Sami could use that against him--two quick arm drags left Rezar on the mat, and Sami tagged Kevin back in to do his senton. The rhythm was right, the time was right, the audience was right, it all felt effortless and joyous in a way wrestling hadn’t for so long.

Rezar made it to his corner to tag in Akam, and Sami could see the alarm in Akam’s eyes as he came into the ring, even though he was trying to be stoic. They were young, too young, they didn’t know how to deal with a _real_ team--Akam stepped right into Kevin’s superkick and reeled backwards, clutching at his mouth. Kevin kicked him again; Akam went to his knees and Kevin wrestled him into a chinlock.

Akam desperately reached back to claw at Kevin, and when his hands left his mouth Sami heard that odd little susurration rustle through the arena, the sound of a crowd realizing that a wrestler is bleeding. Akam’s lip was split and his mouth was a bloody mess, drooling scarlet down onto Kevin’s arms as he struggled. He pawed at Kevin with his bloody hands, leaving red smudges all across Kevin’s face. 

Sami saw Kevin’s jaw set as Akam’s crimson-stained fingers raked at him: no banter, no mocking, no risk taken that he might get any of Akam’s blood in his mouth. Instead, Kevin looked over at Sami with a look of laughing triumph. _I don’t need any blood but yours,_ his eyes said, and Sami felt that look like sunlight lancing through him, bright and urgent. He could burst into flames right there on the apron at the devotion in Kevin’s eyes, and he heard himself yell “Yeah, fuck him! Fuck him and his stupid blood!” Which was: one, a pretty dumb thing to yell, and two, Vince was going to have a talk with him about language when they got to the back, but Sami didn’t care, they were going to be coming to the back as champions and later he was going to fuck Kevin into oblivion while Kevin bit him hard enough to make him scream.

Akam wrenched himself out of the headlock and tagged Rezar in before collapsing outside the ring, but even though Rezar was fresh, it was no good: they were big, but Kevin and Sami were _great_ , and nothing could stop them tonight. “Put your boot up!” Kevin called out, and Sami swung a leg up onto the ropes so Kevin could smash Rezar’s face into it. Then Kevin whipped the staggering champion into the far corner and whirled with impossible grace to tag Sami in. 

Sami jumped forward and Helluva Kicked him, feeling the crowd noise spiraling upward with every stride across the ring, jumping in intensity at the moment his boot connected with Rezar’s face. Without hesitating, he grabbed Rezar’s arm and yanked him back to the center of the ring, knowing beyond any doubt that Kevin would be there, ready for the pop-up powerbomb. He didn’t even turn around, just waited for the _thump_ that shook the whole ring, and then for the thuds on the mat, the old familiar rhythm that anyone who stood against them heard eventually: _one--two--three._

The bell rang as Sami pivoted to fall unerringly into Kevin’s waiting arms, laughing. He grabbed Kevin’s beard and kissed his cheeks, tasting Akam’s blood on Kevin’s skin, both of them daubed with it uncaring. The titles were placed in their hands, scarlet and silver and beautiful. Kevin looked down at his title, then up at Sami, and there were tear-tracks cutting through the blood on his face. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft under the torrent of the crowd, his face bright with startled wonder, “we won.”

“Of course we did,” Sami said, and dragged Kevin to his feet to take in the cheers.

* * *

Sami dropped his title on the bed and started unbuckling his belt. “The only problem with this is I’m not going to be able to see your face while I fuck you,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about the logistics and I don’t see how it’s possible while you’re biting my neck. Do you think it’s possible to drink from the artery in my wrist?” he added as he pulled off his shirt. “That way I could still see your eyes.”

There was silence behind him.

Sami turned around to find Kevin standing in the doorway, the championship belt still on his shoulder, his eyes dark and wide. “What’s wrong?” said Sami.

“We’re really champions,” Kevin said.

Sami nodded, grinning.

“And we’re really going to do this.”

Sami nodded again, knowing his grin had gone sharp and lustful, and not caring.

“You’re going to fuck me while I bite you.”

“If you ever get your ass over here and get undressed,” Sami said. “Or I mean, I’ll do it myself if you’d like.” When Kevin still didn’t move, Sami went over and pulled up his Guns n Roses t-shirt, letting his fingers trail leisurely over Kevin’s stomach in the way that always made him shiver. “I’ve got lube. I’ve got condoms. I’ve got a whole lot of blood,” Sami said, tugging gently at the hem of the shirt. Kevin took a few steps toward the bed, letting Sami lead him there. “I’ve got a tag team title and a sexy boyfriend--” He broke off when Kevin snickered. “What’s so funny?”

“ _Boyfriend_ sounds so weird,” Kevin said. “Like we’re in high school.”

“Fine,” said Sami. He lifted the title from Kevin’s shoulder and put it on top of his own on the side of the bed, then pushed at Kevin until he sat down. “You’re my lover, my dread undead lord, my vampire master.”

“Oh _geez,_ ” said Kevin, and started laughing so hard that he toppled over when Sami nudged him. His laughter broke off as Sami straddled him to unbuckle his belt and undo his fly. “Oh _God,_ ” he said in a very different tone of voice. “Sami, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“‘So long?’ I mean, you just bit me a few days ago,” Sami said. “That’s not _that--_ ”

“Not the biting,” Kevin said, his face red. “The being fucked by you.”

“Oh,” said Sami, biting his lip. He busied himself with sliding off Kevin’s pants for a moment and then easing his underwear off. Kevin was already hard and he made a strangled noise as Sami’s fingers brushed him. “Yeah,” said Sami softly. “I’ve wanted it since I met you, Mr. Fucking Wrestling, all bluster and arrogance, trying to distract me from your wary eyes.”

“Mmh,” said Kevin, his eyes half-closed, his hips lifted slightly into Sami’s touch. He watched, his breath shallow and his cheeks hectic, as Sami slipped out of his clothes in turn, his gaze flicking between Sami’s face and his crotch as if he couldn’t decide which was more enticing.

“Touch yourself a little,” Sami said as he opened the bedstand drawer and pulled out the condoms and lube. “Just a little, no getting yourself off too early.”

Kevin rested just the fingertips of one hand on his erection, barely stroking. “It wouldn’t… it wouldn’t take much,” he said breathlessly. He smiled at Sami as if he were drunk with lust, and Sami could see his fangs, long and sharp and beautiful. His own cock twitched hard at the sight and he had to take a moment and collect himself before ripping open the condom package. He rolled the condom on and Kevin’s gaze settled there, avid and unwavering as Sami opened up the lube. 

“Okay,” Sami said, nudging Kevin’s hips up. “Keep touching yourself. This might be a little uncomfortable--I mean, I don’t know how long it’s been for you…”

“Uh,” said Kevin. “Yeah, it’s been… a while since…” He bit his lip as Sami slid a hand between his legs, along hot skin. “It’s been a while,” he said, with that edge of bravado in his voice that absolutely meant he had never done this before and also that Sami had better not call him on it.

“Okay,” Sami said soothingly, “We’ll take it nice and slow then.” 

Kevin’s face tightened and turned inward as Sami slipped a finger in, as though he were trying to memorize exactly how this moment felt, and Sami felt that weird burst of possessiveness and something close to pride that he always felt when Kevin did something outside of his comfort zone: eating a piece of sushi; climbing to the top of a cage; trusting anyone. “It’ll feel better soon,” Sami whispered.

“It’s good now,” Kevin said quickly.

“It’ll still feel better soon.”

Kevin took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He was more relaxed than Sami had expected, which was good because Sami wasn’t sure he could wait much longer. He made a little noise, almost protesting, as Sami removed his fingers, but just swallowed hard as Sami lifted his legs and got him into a good position. “I’m not sure this will work for biting you,” he muttered as Sami moved up against him, not quite penetrating yet.

“I’m pretty flexible,” Sami managed. It was difficult to string words together coherently when he was up against Kevin’s body like this, so close, so close. He pushed forward and felt himself slide into hot slickness, just an inch. “Plus, once I’m all the way in--”

“Oh God,” Kevin groaned at the idea. He sounded delighted and terrified at the same time. 

“--It should… should be more possible.” 

Another nudge forward, and Kevin made an inarticulate noise that ended up becoming Sami’s name, more or less. “All of you,” Kevin said in a rush, “please, please.” He started to say “please” again and then his voice broke off in a gasp of shocked pleasure: “Oh, that was-- Oh, good.”

He sounded utterly surprised, and Sami felt an unseemly amount of delight that--no matter how much Kevin tried to hide it--he was clearly the first person to make Kevin feel this way. He pushed harder, and then harder, until he was almost right up against Kevin’s body. Kevin was staring at him, his breath fast and tight, little pulses of pleasure flashing across his face. Sami took a moment to just savor the sight of him, undone and panting, and then he bent himself over Kevin’s body, bringing his neck close to Kevin’s mouth.

“Okay,” Sami said. Language felt like it was going to slip away from him at any moment, like he’d be stranded without any words, lost in sensation. “Do it.”

Kevin nuzzled at his neck, and at the touch of his lips--no teeth at all, just softness--Sami had to close his eyes and concentrate to keep from tipping right over the edge.

He felt two delicate points of pleasure-pain against his skin, and he pushed forward the last tiny bit, sinking into Kevin’s body as Kevin’s teeth sank into his.

Kevin groaned against his skin, a low thrumming buzz Sami seemed to feel all through him. That languid pleasure was radiating out from Kevin’s cruel beautiful teeth again, but now it was as if it were in a feedback loop with the hot tight urgency of Kevin’s body, the two pleasures cascading upward into bliss. He didn’t dare to move--he didn’t _need_ to move, they were a Moebius strip of ecstasy, both of them deep within the other, teeth and body, heart and soul. The way it should be.

The way it always had been, no matter what they had said. 

For what felt like a small eternity they simply seemed to float in rapture, locked together. When it came, Sami’s orgasm was almost gradual, a long slow cresting of pleasure into joy. He could feel his breathing grow shallow, his heart pounding, and Kevin made a hoarse sound of hunger against his neck, like he could taste the sensation in Sami’s blood. “Kevin, please…” Sami stammered, and as if he had demanded it, Kevin made a low sound in his throat, his body tightening around Sami, his hips tilting up against him.

As the last shudders of their pleasure died down, Sami felt Kevin’s fangs slip from his neck as Kevin sighed: a long, slow exhalation of satisfaction. Sami eased himself back, kissing Kevin’s shoulders, his chest, his stomach--Kevin simply murmured happily at the touch, too sated to even protest as he often did when Sami kissed the roundness and softness at his waist. Delighted at this unexpected benefit, Sami took the opportunity to nip small love bites around Kevin’s navel, enjoying the muffled noises Kevin made.

“Hey,” Kevin said, blinking up at him as Sami grabbed a towel and dried them both off a bit. “Hey, Sami. Guess what.”

“What?” Sami asked, feeling a smile tugging at his mouth, knowing exactly what Kevin was going to say.

“We’re the Raw tag team champions.”

Sami reached out and picked up the twinned titles lying on the other side of the bed. “That we are,” he said. He put them across Kevin’s bare body, and Kevin put his arms down to cradle them protectively. “And we’re going to be champs for a good long time,” Sami added, curling up next to Kevin with a yawn.

“And everyone else can just suck it,” Kevin finished sleepily.

“Uh-uh,” Sami corrected him. “Only you. Only you can suck it.”

Kevin laughed and tugged him closer. “Doofus,” he said.

“Bite me,” Sami said.

Sami felt Kevin’s lips touch his hair. “Later,” he heard Kevin promise as sleep washed over him. “Always.”


End file.
